

















(lass ?2 S 



Copyright N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 





Ethel Wright 

OR 

Only a Music Teacher 

BY 

Minnie Lahr Corwin 



COCHRANE PUBLISHING CO. 

TRIBUNE BUILDING, NEW YORK 

1909 



CHAPTER XI 

"I Cannot Stay, for Mv Mother Needs Me by 

Her Side” 68 

CHAPTER XII 

Suspense 74 

CHAPTER XIII 

Another Life Sacrificed on the Altar of Pride. ... 80 

CHAPTER XIV 

“As Thy Days So Shall Thy Strength Be.” 87 

CHAPTER XV 

An Exciting Morning 93 

CHAPTER XVI 

New Friends 100 

CHAPTER XVII 

Richard Graham Unexpectedly Meets Mr. 

Wright 106 

CHAPTER XVIII 

“I Never Heard of His Engagement” 111 

CHAPTER XIX 

A Christian Mother 117 

CHAPTER XX 

Richard’s Explanation and Ethel’s Welcome. ... 122 

CHAPTER XXI 

Saved at Last 127 

CHAPTER XXII 

Conclusion 133 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER I. 

“thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud.” 

“Mamma, don’t cry! Please, dear mamma, don’t cry, 
’cause it makes Ethel cry to see you cry;” and the little 
girl sobbed as if her heart would break. Mrs. Wright, 
with her head buried in a pillow, was lying on a couch 
weeping bitterly ; but at the sound of her little daughter’s 
voice she sat up and drew the child to her side. 

“Don’t cry, Ethel, see dear! Mamma is all right 
now,” and Mrs. Wright endeavored to stop weeping; 
and comfort the child. 

“But why are you here? Mamma thought you were 
sleeping.” 

“I was sleeping, but I waked up and heard you cry- 
ing. Then I got up real quiet so as not to wake baby 
or Harry, and corned to see if you was sick. Is you 
sick, mamma, or is you crying ’cause papa did not come 
home?” 

“Mamma is not sick, darling; but it is eleven o’clock 
and papa has not come home from work,” and she 
struggled to keep back the tears as she took Ethel in 
her arms and kissed her. 

“Papa come home soon, mamma, ’cause I prayed: 
‘Please, dear Jesus, send papa home early,’ when I 


5 


6 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


said, ‘Now I lay me,’ but you did not hear me ’cause baby 
was crying. Won’t Jesus send him home, mamma?” 

“Yes! my dear little comforter; but you must go back 
to bed for the fire is out, and you will take cold.” 

Poor Mrs. Wright, her burden was heavy indeed. A 
look at her sad, sweet face and poorly furnished home 
told a story of poverty and neglect. 

When Harold Wright first met her, she was the ac- 
knowledged belle of Hazelroth. She was but eighteen 
then, pure and sweet, loved by all, and loving every one. 
She was not very tall, but had a slim and graceful figure. 
Her hair was the envy of all her girl friends. It fell in 
exuberant curls over her high forehead. She was a de- 
cided blonde, with a very fair complexion, while her 
laughing blue eyes seemed to capture all hearts. 

In all Hazelroth there was not a girl as happy and free 
from care as Marie Smith. She had two sisters and three 
brothers, but Marie was the youngest, petted and loved 
by all. 

This was Marie when Harold Wright first met her. 

He was the only son of Captain Henry Wright, but 
a spoiled child. His mother worshipped him, and now 
at twenty years of age, he caused her many anxious 
hours by his wild and extravagant ways. 

He was visiting a friend in Hazelroth, when he met 
Marie Smith at a picnic. He thought it would be fun 
to flirt with her and “cut the country rubes out,” but it 
was not long before he found he loved her. 

And she, poor child, loved him, not knowing how cruel 
and deceitful he was. He had joined the church choir 
and had done everything to make her love him. 

So when he asked her to be his wife she thought that 
she would have heaven on earth. It was not long be- 
fore she found she had been deceived. Mrs. Wright 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


7 


did not approve of the match, as she thought her son 
would marry a wealthy old maid and a friend of the 
family. So when her son married without asking his 
parents’ consent, she forgave him, but blamed Marie, 
and would not receive her; and after a stormy scene 
Harold left home, vowing never to return until they 
would recognize her. 

This was a great shock to Marie, for Harold had told 
her that his parents approved of his choice, but could 
not come to the wedding because his mother was ill, and 
his father could not leave her. He knew that nothing 
could induce Marie to marry him if she knew that his 
parents would not receive her and considered her be- 
neath him, for she was a proud girl. 

It was not until after they were married that he told 
her of his parents’ anger. It was a cruel blow to Marie, 
for her trust in him was so great she did not think it 
possible for him to deceive her; but Harold Wright 
knew how to plead, and Marie forgave him. 

It was a very humble home indeed that he took his 
bride to, for Harold had never saved a cent. When he 
worked he earned very good wages, for he was a very 
fine machinist. He did not like to work, and only did 
so when he could not get enough money from his mother ; 
for his father would not give him any, but his mother 
gave him all she could. 

About half a mile from the Smith homestead was the 
village grocery store. Mr. Simon, the grocer, owned 
the building and lived on the second floor, over the store. 
It was to three small rooms on the third floor that Harold 
Wright took his bride. 

There were no carpets on the floor and not much 
furniture, but Mrs. Wright (as we will now call her) was 
very happy, and proved to be a very good housekeeper. 


8 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


Her home was always neat and clean, while the floors 
were as white as soap and water could make them. 

For about a year Mr. Wright worked quite steadily, 
then he grew weary of well doing, and started to mingle 
in bad company. 

Oh! Flow Mrs. Wright’s heart did ache when she 
saw him drifting away from her, and coming home in- 
toxicated night after night. 

Thus matters grew worse and worse; and to-night it 
seemed as if she could not suffer much longer. 

Three children had come to bless their home. Ethel, 
four years old; Harry, two years, and Russell, just six 
months. 

Ethel was a great comfort to her mother; although 
only four years of age, she had the wisdom of a child 
of six. She was a very thin, nervous child, with light 
curly hair like her mother. It was to her that Mrs. 
Wright told all her trouble. 

Poor woman, she had to tell someone; and she was 
too proud to tell her parents, sisters, brothers or friends. 

Harry was a lively boy with dark hair and brown eyes, 
like his father, but how her heart did ache when she 
saw that he had also a very quick temper, like his father. 

Every night she knelt beside his crib, and asked the 
Heavenly Father to help her to control his temper, and 
bring him up in the straight and narrow way. 

For the past year Mr. Wright had scarcely worked at 
all, and when he did, he spent all he earned for drink. 

Mrs. Wright was a very fine seamstress, and from 
early in the morning until late at night she sewed to 
support her little ones. Many a day she went hungry 
that they might be fed. 

Many women would have grown to hate the man that 
made them suffer so; but although Mr. Wright neglected, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


9 


cursed and starved her, she loved him just the same. 

Sometimes, in his sober moments, he gave her a kind 
word. How her poor, crushed heart would cherish that 
word, and how much lighter her step and brighter her 
face would be for the rest of the day. 

He had worked quite steadily the past week, and to- 
day was pay-day. He had told her he would be home 
early, but the hours passed one by one and he did not 
come. 

It was the same old story. Instead of coming home, 
he had passed the door and gone to the tavern two blocks 
farther on. 

Finally, heartsick and disappointed, she threw herself 
on the couch and sobbed. 

It was this that awoke Ethel, and she hastened to her 
mother’s side, as we have already read. 

“Poor mamma, cold too,” Ethel said as her mother 
carried her back to the crib where she slept with Harry. 

“Mamma come to bed, and get warm.” 

“Yes, my dear, I will not sit up any longer. So go 
to sleep ;” and she kissed Ethel as she tucked her in bed. 

After weeping softly for some time, at last Mrs. 
Wright closed her weary eyes in sleep. 

But it was not for long. Just as the village clock told 
the hour of midnight a heavy step was heard on the 
stairs. Stumbling and cursing at each step, Mr. Wright 
reached the door at last. 

Opening the door, which had been left unlocked for 
him, he looked about the room. 

Not finding his wife waiting for him seemed to make 
him furious. 

Coming into the room and slamming the door behind 
him, he called out angrily, “Marie.” 


10 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“Yes, Harold,” Marie answered, gently; “I got tired 
of waiting and went to bed.” 

“Went to bed, did you? Well, then, just git up and 
git my supper. You lazy thing, after I have worked all 
day, don’t you think I want something to eat?” and, 
seizing the bed covering, he pulled them off of his wife 
amid curses and threats. 

Swiftly she dressed herself while he went back to the 
dining-room. 

He was so drunk he could scarcely stand, and running 
into a chair upset it. 

The noise awoke the baby and he began to cry. 

“Make that brat shut up, or I’ll choke him.” 

Taking the baby in her arms, and wrapping a shawl 
around him, Mrs. Wright built the fire and soon had a 
tempting supper before him. 

She had purchased a tender piece of steak for the chil- 
dren’s dinner the next day, but gladly gave it to her 
husband to quiet him. 

“Harold, have you any money left for me ?” she timidly 
asked. 

“Money! Money! that’s all you think of,” he roared, 
and putting his hand in his pocket he drew out some 
change, and with an oath threw it at her. 

The tears rolled down her cheeks as she stooped to 
pick it up. 

The sight of her tears made him more angry, and pick- 
ing up the platter with the meat, threw it at her. 

It struck her hand, and then crashed to the floor, while 
the hot meat and gravy ran over her hand and down 
the front of her dress. She was pale as death, as, stag- 
gering to the bedroom, she laid the baby on the bed. 
Luckily he had escaped, and as if knowing something 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


ii 


was wrong, never murmured when she laid him down 
and left him. 

Going to the kitchen she bathed her hand. Not a tear 
did she shed, only the white set look on her face told 
more plainly than tears how she was suffering. 

After hurling the platter, Mr. Wright had fallen into a 
drunken sleep in his chair; and knowing it would be 
almost impossible to awaken him, his wife let him sleep. 
After whispering words of comfort to Ethel and Harry, 
who had awakened but were too frightened to move, she 
undressed and falling on her knees told her sorrows to 
God. And oh! how earnestly she prayed for her fallen 
husband, and for strength to bear her trials. She arose 
from her knees somewhat comforted, and laid down 
beside the baby. 

At last her eyes closed in sleep; but her dreams must 
have been troubled, for now and then a sob or a moan 
could be heard. 


12 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER II. 


RALPH SMITH. 

It was about five o’clock in the morning when Mr. 
Wright awoke. 

He glanced about in surprise, trying to account for 
sleeping in his chair. Suddenly his eyes rested on the 
pieces of broken china and the meat where they lay on 
the floor, and gradually memory of his cruel act returned. 

He knew she would not reproach him; she was too 
gentle and timid to do that, but he could not stay and see 
her sad, grieved face, and how could he tell her that he 
had lost his position? The firm, seeing they could not de- 
pend on him, had at last secured a steady man in his 
place; and when he received his pay the day before told 
him his services were no longer required. 

He had just two dollars left, but, instead of giving 
them to his wife, he put on his hat and coat, and, going 
out very softly, was soon on the way to the tavern. 

Soon after he left, Mrs. Wright awoke, and getting 
up very quietly, dressed. 

She was not surprised to find her husband gone, for 
he had often done that before. 

With a very sad heart she built the fire and prepared 
her simple breakfast of tea and bread. 

Then quickly clearing away the broken platter; and 
washing the grease off the floor, she arranged the rooms 
as neatly as possible and sat down to sew. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


13 


Her hand was swollen and very painful, but as it was 
the left hand it did not prevent her from sewing. 

Oh ! how discouraged and unhappy she was this morn- 
ing. Would there never be a change? Must she suffer 
on in silence like this forever? 

Soon baby Russell awoke and, crying, woke Ethel and 
Harry. 

Laying aside her work, Mrs. Wright washed and 
dressed the children, and gave them their breakfast, then 
telling Ethel to amuse her little brothers, resumed her 
sewing. 

Mrs. Wright often asked herself what she would have 
done without Ethel. 

Although only four years old, she had the entire care 
of her little brothers, leaving her mother free to sew. 

On pleasant days, after having put baby to sleep, she 
could be seen walking up and down the block with Harry 
grasped firmly by the hand. Great was her distress and 
anxiety when the wilful boy broke away and ran into 
the street. Hastily bringing him back, under threat of 
taking him home, they would resume their walk. 

Harry was a very affectionate child and dearly loved 
his mother, and always seemed so sorry when he saw the 
grieved look on her face after one of his childish out- 
bursts of temper, that she always forgave him freely. 

Baby had been placed on the couch, and the other chil- 
dren were playing on the floor, when there came a knock 
at the door. 

Ethel opened the door and in a moment was lifted high 
in the air, as a cheerful voice called out “Hello ! Sis.” 

With a cry of joy, Mrs. Wright was clasped in the 
arms of her brother Ralph. 

It was indeed a pleasant surprise. For soon after her 


14 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


marriage, he had married and moved to New York, and 
she had not seen him since. 

Ralph was the oldest of the Smith family, and Marie 
had always been his pet. It was to Ralph that Marie 
had always carried all her childish troubles, and no mat- 
ter how busy he was, he always found time to listen to his 
little sister and comfort her. 

All of the Smith family were married and settled in 
homes of their own, but Marie and Elmer, her youngest 
brother, were the only ones living in Hazelroth. 

Ralph was greatly shocked to see the change in his 
sister. From a bright, jolly girl she had changed to a 
sad, quiet woman. 

All about him were signs of want. Her home, although 
neat and clean, was very poor looking; and her clothes 
were thin and shabby, although neatly mended and clean. 

“Where is Harold?” he inquired. 

Mrs. Wright turned pale as she answered quietly. 
“He went out.” 

“He went out!” Ralph repeated; “isn’t he working?” 

Seeing his sister did not want to answer him, and know- 
ing that something was wrong, he took her in his arms, 
and imploringly said : “Now, dear little sister, I know 
there is something wrong. Won’t you tell brother as you 
used to? You are sadly changed, my darling; come, tell 
me, perhaps I can help you.” 

This was too much for Mrs. Wright, and, breaking 
down, she wept bitterly, as she told him the whole story. 

Great was his anger, and he swore he would punish 
her husband. 

“No, Ralph, you must not. Promise me that you will 
not say anything to Harold,” she pleaded, in alarm. 

“But do you think I am going to let him kill you inch 
by inch? No! Come home with me. My wife will 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


15 

be a good sister to you, and I am sure you and the chil- 
dren will be happy in my home.” 

“No, Ralph, I appreciate your kindness, but my place 
is here by my husband.” 

“But see how he is abusing you, Marie! Can it be 
that you still love that scoundrel?” 

A blush spread over her face as she answered: “Yes, 
Ralph, I do, and I feel that he will come to his senses 
some day, and we will be happy. Besides you know, 
brother, ‘What God hath joined together, let not man 
put asunder,’ ” and she went on to plead for her hus- 
band. 

“Well, sis, I am going to have a talk with him anyway; 
that can’t do any harm, and it may do a lot of good.” 

“I am going out to find him now,” and taking his hat 
he went out. It was not necessary to ask where he 
would find him, for he knew from what his sister had 
told him that the tavern was more to her husband than 
wife, children and home. 

It was about an hour later when a sobered and peni- 
tent man climbed the stairs to his home. 

We will not stop to tell what passed between Harold 
Wright and Ralph Smith, but Ralph did not spare his 
brother-in-law, and he told him some things which sur- 
prised and frightened him, and it was with quick steps 
that he started for home. 

Reaching the door at last he found it locked. A name- 
less fear stole over him. Had his wife taken the chil- 
dren and fled? 

He grasped the banister for support, for the thought 
made him sick and dizzy. 

For, under all his cruelty and abuse, there was still 
love for his wronged wife. 

Just then he heard the children talking in the kitchen. 


i6 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


Never before had the sound of their voices sounded so 
sweetly in his ears. 

Knocking at the door (which opened into the dining- 
room) he heard little feet leave the kitchen and cautiously 
approach, while Ethel called out bravely: “Who’s there?” 

“It’s papa,” he answered in a kinder tone than they 
had ever heard before from him. 

In an instant the door was opened, but his quick glance 
told him that his wife was not there. 

“Where is mamma?” he inquired. 

“Mamma done way wif big bundle,” answered Harry. 

“Mamma gone away with big bundle,” he repeated, 
while the beads of perspiration started on his brow, as 
the thought struck him that his wife had deserted the 
children and him. 

Just then her familiar step was heard, and the next 
minute she entered the room. 

“Marie!” he cried. 

“Harold!” she answered, startled. 

There was a change in his face she could not under- 
stand. He looked so pleadingly and lovingly at her, it 
carried her back to the day he asked her to be his wife. 

Sinking into a chair he covered his face with his hands 
and groaned aloud. 

In an instant she was beside him, all her suffering for- 
gotten as she wound her arms around his neck and gently 
asked : 

“Harold, dear, what is the matter?” 

The children looked on in wonder, but at a word from 
their mother returned to their play in the kitchen. 

“Oh ! Marie, I thought you had left us,” he sobbed. 

“No, Harold. I finished the work I was doing for Mrs. 
Mack and took it to her.” 

Looking up into her face he cried: “I have been a 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


17 

brute, but if you will forgive me, dear, I will do better. 
Oh! why did my mother tempt me with wine? She saw 
no harm in having it on the table; but see what it has 
made of me! Marie, do you think you could learn to 
love me again?” 

“Love you! Oh, my dear husband; I have never 
ceased to love you.” With a cry of joy he clasped her in 
his arms and kissed her. 

“Marie, I have lost my position, but Ralph told me 
that his firm was looking for a machinist, and he will 
advance us the money to move to New York. Will you 
move to New York with me, dear?” 

“I do not like the idea of borrowing the money of 
Ralph,” she murmured, for all her poverty had not 
quenched her pride. 

“I don’t either, Marie, but it seems the only way. I 
feel as if I could do better if I got away from my old 
haunts and companions.” 

“Then I will gladly consent. But when do we go?” 

“Ralph is going home day after to-morrow and I will 
go with him, and secure a position and also a flat.” 

Mrs. Wright did not ask him what her brother said 
to him. It was not necessary, for Ralph had proved 
that his talk had done no harm but much good. 

They were a very happy family that day, but Mrs. 
Wright did not forget to thank her Heavenly Father 
for leading them from darkness into light. 


i8 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER III. 


“in the world ye shall have tribulations.” — 
JOHN XVI, 33. 

Early the next morning Mrs. Wright was awakened 
by hearing Harry calling, “Mamma!” and sobbing as if 
in pain or fright. 

Thinking he had been dreaming and was frightened 
she hastened to him, fearing he would awake his sister. 

“Hush ! Harry, mamma is here,” she softly whispered. 
“What is the matter? Did you dream naughty things 
and get frightened?” 

“No, mamma, Harry so sick; it hurts Harry so.” 

“What hurts you darling, show mamma ?” she asked in 
alarm. 

“Here!” he answered, pointing to his throat; “and 
Harry is so warm! Harry wants a drink.” 

Oh! how hot his little hands were and how flushed 
his face. In alarm she called her husband. 

“Harold! Harold, come, get up quick, I think Harry 
is sick and you had better go for the doctor.” 

“Harry sick?” he answered, in a sleepy voice. “Give 
him some nitre; I guess it’s only a little fever,” and he 
went to sleep again. 

“No, Harold,” she answered, shaking him. “He is 
burning with fever and complains of his throat. He 
has not been feeling well the last few days, but I thought 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


19 

it was only a little cold. I really think you had better 
get the doctor.” 

Reluctantly leaving his warm bed, Mr. Wright dressed, 
but one glance at Harry filled him with alarm, for even 
his inexperienced eyes told him that he was a very sick 
child. 

Running almost all the way, he soon reached the doc- 
tor’s home. 

The doctor had been out to a very trying case almost 
all night; and utterly weary was sleeping soundly, there- 
fore it took fully five minutes to arouse him, but upon 
hearing of the case he quickly accompanied Mr. Wright 
to his home. 

His face was very grave as he examined the child with 
great care. Then working over him silently for some 
time he succeeded in soothing him somewhat. At last, 
turning to the anxious parents, he asked : 

“How long has this child been sick?” 

Mrs. Wright explained that she did not know that he 
was sick, although he had acted queerly the last few 
days, but she thought it was only a cold and had given 
him home remedies. 

“Well!” he explained, bluntly, “your child has diph- 
theria, and the sooner you get the other children out of 
the house the better it will be for them.” 

Mrs. Wright turned pale, and would have fallen had 
she not grasped a chair for support. 

It was not necessary to tell her that her darling boy 
was dangerously ill, for the word, diphtheria, told it too 
plainly. In those days anti-toxin had not been heard of, 
and diphtheria was indeed a cruel enemy. 

“But Ethel and Russell ! Do you think they will 
escape it?” she gasped. 

“Now, don’t be alarmed,” the doctor answered kindly, 


20 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


seeing her distressed face, “we can’t have you sick also. 
You must brace up, for on your care depends the life of 
your child. As for the other two, I think if they were 
removed at once, they might escape.” 

“But, doctor, have you any hope for Harry?” Mr. 
Wright anxiously inquired. 

“Yes,” he answered, “I think you called me just in 
time; and I think I can get the upper hand of it. I 
will stop in again this noon; in the mean time you fol- 
low the directions I will leave. I presume you will take 
the children to your mother?” he said, turning to Mrs, 
Wright whom he had known all her life, and helped 
through the mumps, measles, and croup when she was a 
child; and heavier illness after she had grown up. 

“Yes,” she answered, “it is the only place I have to 
send them.” 

“Well, you get them ready, and, as I have to go by 
there, I will take them there for you.” 

Then, leaving the medicine and directions, he departed. 

All that day they worked over Harry; and the next 
day the doctor pronounced an improvement, and said that 
if nothing further set in before night, the danger would 
be over. 

Mr. Wright did not go away that day, as he had 
planned to do; but he intended to go as soon as his son 
was out of danger. He stayed home, helping his wife 
nurse their sick child, although the awful desire for 
liquor was so strong at times that he felt as if he would 
die if he did not get just one drink. 

On the morning of the third day the doctor told them 
that the danger was past, and Harry would live. 

“Now, Mr. Wright,” he said, cheerfully, “if you want 
to go to the city you can go. Your little son is doing 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


21 


finely, and in about a week we will have him playing 
about as usual.” 

“Doctor, do you think I can have Ethel back again?” 
Mrs. Wright inquired. “You see Harry does not want 
me to leave him a minute, and Ethel is quite a help and 
comfort to me.” 

“Oh ! yes, you can have the little girl ; but I advise you 
to leave the baby where he is a little longer, as you have 
enough to keep you busy just now,” he answered. 

So Ethel came home and Mr. Wright went to the city 
in search of employment, promising to let his wife know 
at once of his success. 

Harry seemed delighted to have his sister back again, 
and seemed much better that day, although he was very 
weak. 

About eight o’clock that evening he went to sleep, 
and after putting Ethel to bed, Mrs. Wright with a 
heart full of thanksgiving turned to her Bible. Blessed 
book! How many times it had brought joy and com- 
fort when she was bowed down with sorrow. 

About midnight Harry awoke and feebly said : 

“Mamma! please take Harry in your bed.” 

“Harry is in mamma’s bed,” she answered, while her 
heart almost stood still with fear. There was. a decided 
change in her boy. 

“No, mamma! Dis bed so little. Please take Harry 
in your bed, and hold Harry tight. Harry so ’fraid.” 

Clasping her child in her arms, she groaned aloud. 
Oh ! if only the doctor would come ! But she could not 
leave her darling boy while she went for him; she saw 
that he was sinking fast. 

Just then he spoke again: 

“Sister! Mamma, where is sister? Harry wants sis- 
ter !” Quickly calling Ethel she told the child her brother 


22 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


was worse, and bade her put on her shoes and stockings, 
and wrap a large shawl about her. 

“Is Harry mamma’s boy?” he softly asked. 

“Yes, darling,” she replied, kissing him passionately. 

“Sister’s boy, too?” he continued. 

“Yes, brother,” Ethel answered. 

A sweet smile lit up his face. 

“Tell papa to tiss ” he whispered, but got no fur- 

ther; his soul had fled. 

With a cry the bereaved mother sank on her knees; 
and heart-rending was the petition sent to the throne on 
high, as she begged for strength to bear this burden and 
be able to say : “Thy will, not mine, O Lord, be done.” 

She was aroused at last by hearing Ethel say : 
“Mamma, is Harry sleeping? Why are you crying?” 

“Darling,” she answered, “Harry is sleeping, but will 
never wake up here again. He has gone to join the 
angels.” 

Then she suddenly realized that she must get help. 
But whom could she get? None of her friends lived 
near, and she was all alone in the house, as the Simon 
family had gone out early in the evening and had not 
yet returned. Her mother lived half a mile away; but 
Oh, how she longed for her. It was a very dark, lone- 
some road, but she decided she would go and get her. 
But what would she do with Ethel? She could not take 
her. 

“Ethel, will you be afraid to stay alone while mamma 
goes for grandma?” 

“No, mamma,” Ethel answered, bravely. 

So, laying Ethel on the couch and covering her with 
blankets, she left her. 

Throwing the shawl Ethel had worn over her head, 
she soon reached the street. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


23 


Sobbing bitterly she started to run. Oh, how dark 
and quiet the streets were; she had never been out at 
midnight alone before. On, on, she ran, stumbling, 
crying and praying. 

Suddenly a dog rushed out of a yard and barking 
furiously ran after her. Stopping and speaking gently to 
him, she succeeded in driving him home. But it seemed as 
if there was a dog in every house she passed, and every 
minute she had to stop and chase them back. 

At last, however, she reached her old home. 

Soon she returned with her mother, while her father 
went for the doctor and undertaker. 

Six hours later, just as the factory whistles were an- 
nouncing that another day’s work had begun, a covered 
carriage might have been seen stopping before the door. 
Then the undertaker appeared, carrying a little coffin, 
and placing it in the carriage, seemed to be waiting for 
someone. Soon the door opened again, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Smith, supporting their weeping daughter appeared, 
and entering the carriage were driven off. 

The doctor had insisted on having Harry buried at 
once, and so prevent the disease from spreading. 

A telegram had been sent to Mr. Wright, but his boy 
lay under the ground before he reached home, although 
he started as soon as he received it. Great was his sor- 
row when he heard that his beautiful boy was lost to him 
forever; for Mr. Wright had not learned to love the 
Saviour, and look forward to a reunion in heaven. Harry 
had always been his favorite, and although he was cross 
to the other children, he was always kind to Harry. 

Upon arriving in the city the day before, he had gone 
at once to the firm that Ralph Smith worked for and 
applied for a situation. They told him that they were 
in need of a machinist in the branch shop in Newark, 


24 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


and offered him a position there, and he gladly ac- 
cepted it. 

After talking it over with Mrs. Wright, they agreed 
that he should go on to Newark at once, as they were 
in straightened circumstances, and after the rooms had 
been fumigated, she would pack the furniture and follow 
with the children. 

At last the day came when she was ready to start for 
her new home. Many were the tears she shed as she 
kissed her parents and friends good-bye, for she had 
never been away from Hazelroth more than a few days 
at a time before, but it was with a hopeful heart that she 
looked to the future. What would it bring? Happiness 
or sorrow? 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


25 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE TREACHERY OF AUNT ALICE. 

Ten years have passed, bringing many changes. Mr. 
Wright worked quite steadily and was kinder to his wife 
and children, but he was a slave to liquor, and every 
Saturday night, instead of hastening home to his family 
with his week’s wages, he would go to a saloon, and 
sometimes it would be midnight before he reached home, 
with half of his money gone. Still they were quite 
happy, for Mr. Wright always spent the evenings home 
with the family during the week. He knew if he went 
out he would come home intoxicated, and would be unfit 
for work the next day; consequently he would lose his 
position. Oh, how often he tried to give up drinking, 
but he could not, for the awful craving for “just one 
glass” would come, and he was too weak to resist it; 
and after tasting one glass, more was sure to follow. 

He is just coming home from work, and we will fol- 
low him. It is to a very cozy home on Union street to 
which he leads us. 

As he opens the door a boy with a shout of joy 
runs to meet him. Can this be Russell? we ask, as we 
gaze at him in surprise. 

Yes, ten years have changed him from a baby into a 
merry, hearty boy. He is a very pretty child, and some 
of his school companions call him “Girl face,” just to 
tease him; for there are few boys that like to be called 


26 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“girlish,” and he considers it a great insult. His com- 
plexion is fair like his mother’s, while his chestnut hair 
and brown eyes are like his father’s. 

Mrs. Wright is in the kitchen, putting the finishing 
touches to the evening meal, while Ethel is arranging 
some flowers in a vase on the dining-room table. Mrs. 
Wright has a small flower-garden in their back yard, and 
she is never happier than when she is among her flowers, 
for, having lived in the country among flowers all her 
life, it was a great trial to do without them when she 
first came to the city. 

Ethel is now fourteen years of age. She is not a 
pretty girl, but still there is something about her that 
seems to attract attention. Perhaps it is the proud, 
graceful way in which she walks, or the long silken curls 
that fall in a golden shower on her shoulders. It can 
not be her face, for that is very thin and sharp in out- 
lines, while a few freckles are sprinkled over her nose. 

Ah! we have found it, at last! It is her eyes, which 
carry such suggestions of brilliant intelligence, that one 
is never tired of looking into their shining depths. 

She is passionately fond of books, and so rapid has 
been her advancement in school that she expects to 
graduate next year; but her highest ambition is music; 
this taste she gets from the Wrights. 

Mrs. Wright, seeing her daughter’s passionate love for 
music, persuaded her husband to get a piano on the in- 
stallment plan. 

He reluctantly consented; but as he sees how quickly 
Ethel is learning to master it, he is looking forward to 
the time when she will be able to teach and help sup- 
port the family, thus leaving him more of his wages to 
spend on Saturday nights. 

Some of the neighbors say, “Ethel Wright is a perfect 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


27 


little lady,” while others say, “She has an old head on 
young shoulders.” Both of these sayings are true; for 
her Christian mother had taught her from infancy to 
be courteous at all times, and as she always was her 
mother’s confidant, and shared all her sorrows, it is nat- 
ural that her mind should be more developed than that 
of other girls of her age. Still her disposition is very 
sunny, and no eye is brighter or laugh merrier than hers 
when she is with her girl friends. 

Soon they are all seated around the table, and very 
pretty and tempting it looks. A close observer might 
see first one head, and then another, bow in prayer, as 
Mrs. Wright and the children silently thank the Giver 
of all good things, for supplying their needs. Mr. 
Wright does not believe in saying grace. “I am the one 
you ought to thank for your food. Don’t I have to work 
and earn it?” he would say. How many men there are 
that say the same thing. But do they ever ask them- 
selves who it is that gives them health, strength and 
the ability to work? 

“Oh, say, pa! I have something rich to tell you,” 
Russell burst out. “Behold in your daughter the cham- 
pion roller skater of the world,” and, unable to control 
himself any longer, he went into a fit of laughter. 

“Now, Russell, I think you’re real mean?” Ethel 
remonstrated, as her cheeks flamed with humiliation. 

“I can’t help it, sis,” he answered, when he could 
stop laughing long enough to speak. “This is too good 
to keep. Gee, whiz! I wish I had a camera; what a 
dandy picture of you I would have.” 

“Well, you have aroused my curiosity. What is all 
this fun about?” Mr. Wright inquired. 

“You know those roller skates Uncle Ralph gave 
Ethel for her birthday? Well, sis thought she would 


2 8 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


try them to-day. So she sat down on the door-step and 
I strapped them on, and then I helped her to her feet. 
‘Now, go away and don’t watch me,’ she said. But I 
offered to help her learn. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t need 
you.’ So I started to walk away, when I heard her 
call ‘Russell,’ and turning around I beheld my proud 
and distinguished sister making some of the fanciest 
steps on roller skates I have ever seen; while her hands 
were beating the air in great shape, as she tried to get 
her balance. Before I could reach her she had reached 
the edge of the sidewalk, and went bang! right into 
the ash-box I had just carried out. Pa! It certainly 
was a comical sight. I wish you could have seen her! 
she was covered with ashes, while her face was scar- 
let. The more she struggled to get out the tighter she 
seemed to be fastened in. At last I managed to get 
her on her feet,” and Russell ended in a shout of 
laughter in which even Ethel joined. 

“That ‘at last’ was well put in, brother; for I think 
you let me sit in that box about half an hour before you 
tried to help me,” she laughingly said. 

Thus, laughing and chatting, they soon finished their 
supper. 

Mrs. Wright and Ethel carried the dishes into the 
kitchen. Mrs. Wright would never allow Ethel to wash 
the dishes, for she argued that dishwashing would make 
her hands stiff for the piano; so she washed while Ethel 
dried them. After the dishes were done they made 
ready for breakfast; then their duties for the day were 
finished. 

The family is soon seated in the sitting-room, or par- 
lor as it was sometimes called. Mr. Wright is reading 
the evening paper. Russell is wrestling with his “home 
work.” Mrs. Wright is darning stockings, while Ethel, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


29 ' 

with the soft pedal down, is playing snatches of Men- 
delssohn. 

Mrs. Wright is an excellent housekeeper and manager. 
Although her husband has spent much of his money for 
liquor, and some weeks half of his wages, still she has 
improved their home wonderfully in the ten years that 
they have been living in Newark. They have six rooms : 
kitchen, dining-room, sitting-room and three bedrooms. 
The sitting-room is indeed cozy. It has a bay window 
facing Union street, in which lace curtains are draped 
very artistically. A very neat ingrain carpet is on the 
floor. The couch, which is worn and shabby, is covered 
with a pretty couch cover and sofa pillows. The piano 
is in the corner, while a small table holding a lamp stands 
beside it. The lamp is adorned with a very pretty crepe 
paper shade — some of Ethel’s work. A large table is 
in the center of the room, about which the family usually 
gather at night to read, study, or sew, while around 
the room are chairs and rockers. It is not an elaborate 
room by any means, but it is homelike and comfortable. 

But what about Mr. Wright’s father and mother; have 
they ever forgiven their daughter-in-law? No, they have 
not; and Mr. Wright has not seen them since the day 
he told them he had married Marie Smith. His mother 
was taken sick very suddenly a short time after his mar- 
riage, and, after a brief illness, died. Captain Henry 
Wright’s widowed sister Alice was living with them at 
the time, and it was she that kept him from forgiving 
his children. 

Captain Wright, though not what could be termed a 
wealthy man, was comfortably situated. He had worked 
very hard in his younger days to gain his possessions; 
and now, living in a fine home with spacious grounds, 
he was enjoying the fruits of his labor. But he be- 


30 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


lieved in a young man working his way, and, therefore, 
he had insisted on his son learning a trade and working 
at it. His sister Alice, with her two children, had been 
living with him since the death of her husband, who had 
left them penniless. But now she was playing a des- 
perate game, trying to keep her brother from receiving 
his son and daughter-in-law, and thus gain all his posses- 
sions for herself and children. 

Mrs. Wright dearly loved her only child, and was on 
the point of sending for him and his wife, when she 
was so suddenly called away. 

The shock was so great to Captain Wright that for 
days he lay unconscious and it was feared he would fol- 
low his wife. 

In the meantime his sister made all arrangements for 
the funeral, and Mrs. Wright was buried. At last, how- 
ever, Mr. Wright rallied, and within a week was able 
to sit up. 

Calling his sister to his side one day he said : 

“Alice, was Harold here to his mother’s funeral?” 

“No, Henry! He was not,” she answered. 

“Did you send him a telegram?” 

“Yes. But I guess he was ashamed to look at his 
work,” and then, seeing his look of surprise, she con- 
tinued: “Henry, is it possible that you don’t know that 
Harold was the cause of his mother’s death? It was 
grieving for him that killed her, and she told me the day 
before she died that she hoped you would never send 
for him and his 'beggar wife.’ ” 

Now all of this was untrue. But she succeeded in 
widening the gulf between Harold and his father more 
every day. 

She had not sent Harold a telegram, and it was not 
until his mother had been buried a month that he heard 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


3i 


of her death; and then with a contrite and penitent 
heart he hastened to his old home. Oh, how sorry he 
was for all he had made his mother suffer, and for the 
angry words he spoke when he told her that he would 
never return unless they sent for his wife and him. 

But when he reached his father’s home he was met 
at the door by his aunt, who told him that his father 
hated him for causing his mother’s death, and would not 
see him; and, indeed, very bitter were the words she 
spoke to him. At last he turned and hurried back to 
Hazelroth, and, blaming his wife for it all, he had be- 
gun to neglect and abuse her, as we read in the opening 
chapters of this story. 

Captain Wright did not know of his son’s visit; if he 
had he would have gladly received him. And as time 
went on and he heard nothing of him, he grew more 
bitter and angry at him every day, much to the secret 
delight of his sister. 


32 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER V. 


MUSIC OR SCHOOL. 

Mr. Wright came home one night, bringing very bad 
news. 

“There is a notice up in the factory, stating that we 
will only work three days a week until further notice,” 
he said to his wife. 

“That is unfortunate, indeed,” she answered, seriously, 
“but what is the cause of it?” 

“Lack of orders, I suppose. I knew there wasn’t much 
work around for some time, but I did not think it would 
come to this.” 

Mr. Wright lit a cigar, and after smoking a few 
minutes in silence, continued : 

“There is one thing we will have to do, and that is, 
cut down expenses. Ethel will have to stop taking 
music lessons until work is more steady than it is now; 
and God only knows when that will be. That piano will 
have to go back, too, for I can’t afford to keep it ; thank 
goodness we only paid one hundred dollars on it so far, 
and I would rather lose that than pay still more and 
then lose it in the end. It is your fault that we are los- 
ing that hundred dollars, for I did not approve of get- 
ting the piano, but you have such big ideas, you would 
ruin a millionaire.” 

“Harold, you know it would break Ethel’s heart to 
part with her piano,” Mrs. Wright answered, gently, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


33 


“and it is only five dollars a month. Don’t you think 
we could manage to keep it, and cut down expenses on 
something else?” 

“No, I do not; and I don’t intend to make a slave of 
myself just to make a fine lady of her, so the sooner 
you get that notion out of your head the better, and as 
for breaking her heart, I guess it will mend again,” and 
Mr. Wright’s voice was raised high in anger. 

“Harold,” Mrs. Wright said, indignantly, “you know 
that it is not necessary for Ethel to give up her music 
lessons or piano. If you would not spend so much money 
for rum and cigars, we could get along nicely even if 
you only work three days a week. You blame me for 
spending the money, but you know in your own heart that 
is untrue. If you would practice a little self-denial, and 
cut down your liquor and tobacco bills, we would soon 
have the piano paid for.” 

Then, indeed, was the demon in Mr. Wright aroused, 
and bringing his fist down on the table with a thud that 
seemed to shake the room, he heaped curses and re- 
proaches upon her, yelling like a wild man. 

Finally Mrs. Wright left the room. Passing the door 
to Ethel’s room she thought she heard sounds of weep- 
ing, and going into the room she found Ethel sobbing 
bitterly. 

“Oh! mamma, how can I give up my piano?” She 
moaned. “I could not help hearing what papa said, be- 
cause he talked so loud. Wasn’t he awful? There are 
times when I almost hate him,” and her eyes flashed. “I 
know it says in the Bible to ‘Honor thy father and thy 
mother,’ but how can I honor him?” 

“My dear daughter! How can you speak like that 
about your father? I never thought I should hear such 


34 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


words from your lips. Nothing that your father said 
hurt me as your words have.” 

“Please forgive me, mamma; I am sorry. I try not 
to feel that way, but sometimes the Wright temper gets 
the best of me.” 

“Yes, daughter, I will forgive you. But you must 
control that temper of yours. You know that your 
father was never taught to control his temper, and you 
see what it will lead you to if you don’t control it while 
you are young.” 

“Mother ! isn’t there anything we can do to make papa 
different?” 

“Yes, dear, we can pray for him. I know you always 
do, but don’t get discouraged. Come, dear, let us kneel 
down and ask the Lord to forgive him and lead him to 
Christ, and to help us patiently to bear our burdens.” 

“Mamma,” Ethel said next morning, looking up from 
the Newark Daily News, “I have decided to keep my 
piano and give up my education instead.” 

“But how can you do that?” Mrs. Wright asked look- 
ing at her daughter as though she thought she had taken 
leave of her senses. 

“That is easy ; I can do that by leaving school and go- 
ing to work. Now, please don’t interrupt me, but let me 
explain,” she said, as she saw her mother was about to 
remonstrate. “Last night, after you left me, I lay a 
long time trying to plan some way to keep my piano. 
Suddenly the thought came to me that I might go to 
work and earn the money for it. But that will mean 
leaving school and giving up all thoughts of graduat- 
ing, and you know how I love my studies and how hard 
I have worked, for I wanted the honor of being the 
youngest graduate next year. After considering it a 
long time, I concluded it would be much easier to give 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


35 


up school than to give up my music, and music will be 
more useful to me, because I will be able to teach next 
year. And, besides, it may not be but a month or two 
before papa has steady work again, and then I can go 
back to school. In the meantime I will study hard every 
night to keep up with the class, and at the same time 
save my piano. Don’t you think papa will be willing to 
pay for it when he has steady work again?” 

“Yes, dear, I have not a doubt but what he would be 
willing to pay for it then, if we can manage to keep it 
in the meantime. But I don’t like the idea of sending 
my little daughter to work. Besides, what can you do?” 

“Now, mamsie, you will not be sending me to work. 
If I choose to work, I am sure it is not your fault, and 
besides I am big enough,” and Ethel drew herself up 
to her full height. “I have been looking over the ‘Help 
Wanted’ columns in the Daily News, and here is one 
that seems to be put in for my special benefit. Listen 
and I will read it: ‘Wanted, a girl about fourteen years 
of age, as companion for an old lady. Call between io 
and 12 a. m. Mrs. A. Wolf, No. — Bank street.’ ” 

“But, Ethel, Bank street is quite a long walk from 
here, and that number is way up the street,” objected 
Mrs. Wright. “And how can I do without my sun- 
beam?” 

“That will be the hardest part of it; to be away from 
you and Russell. But then I suppose I can come home 
twice a week,” Ethel answered, bravely, “and I am sure 
I will have some time during the day or evening to 
study and practice my music. Please, mamma, do not 
raise any more objections, but let me go and apply for 
the position. Perhaps Mrs. Wolf will not take me (I 
hope she is not as fierce as her name), but I can at least 
go and ask her.” 


36 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


At last it was decided that Ethel should try to secure 
the position. As it was a very long walk, and she could 
not afford to ride, she left home at nine o’clock. 

It was just ten o’clock when she reached No. — Bank 
street, and her cheeks flushed with humiliation as she 
rang the bell. 

The door was opened by Mrs. Wolf, and as in a dream 
Ethel followed her into the reception room. 

“I have come in answer to your advertisement for a 
companion,” she said, handing her card and speaking 
bravely, but finding it hard to apply for work. 

“I thought so,” Mrs. Wolf answered kindly. “Al- 
though the ‘ad’ plainly read to call from ten to twelve, 
there were about a dozen here this morning.” 

“Oh! Then you have secured a companion?” Ethel 
said, in a disappointed tone. 

“No, I have not. But I like your looks, and I think 
that you will do very well.” 

Ethel was a girl that had her pretty days, and this 
was one of them. Her dress, although made of cheap 
material, fitted her well, and was made very neatly and 
simply, but she had a way of wearing her clothes, and by 
adding a flower or a ribbon that seemed to transform 
them, she always looked fashionable. Her cheeks were 
flushed, while her eyes were bright and eager. 

“Have you ever had a position as a companion be- 
fore?” Mrs. Wolf inquired. 

“No, ma’am,” Ethel replied, but added eagerly: “If 
you will tell me what my duties will be, I think I can 
easily learn to do them.” 

“Well, I don’t know as there will be any special duties,” 
Mrs. Wolf answered. “I will tell you just what I want 
a companion for. You see, I am getting old. My 
daughter is married and lives in Arlington, and my son 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


37 


goes to business in the morning and does not return 
until evening. So I am alone all day, for I am a widow, 
and I don’t keep any servants. Now, I want a girl that 
will be good company for me, and one that will also help 
me a little with the housework. You know, as there are 
only two of us, there is not much work to do,” she hast- 
ened to add. “And I will pay six dollars a month. I know 
some might think that I am foolish to pay so much, but 
I am willing to pay that, if I can get a nice girl. Now, 
I like your looks, so you can come if you want to.” 

“But, when can I go home?” Ethel timidly inquired. 

“Well, you can have every Thursday afternoon and 
evening, and every Sunday ; because I always spend Sun- 
day with my daughter. Will you accept the position?” 

“Yes, ma’am. When shall I begin my work?” 

“Let me see. To-day is Friday; suppose you come 
Monday.” 

Ethel agreed to do so, and soon started for home. 

“Well,” she meditated. “I did not know that house- 
work was one of the duties of companions. But then, 
as she says, there can’t be much, with only two grown 
folks in the family. Say, wasn’t that piano elegant? 
My! how I longed to touch it. I did not ask her if I 
could practice every day, for of course she will want 
me to play for her if I am to be her companion. Those 
six dollars will just pay for my piano and two music 
lessons, and then I will also get my board. Oh, dear, 
why are we so poor? I really think I am homesick 
already. But mamma shall not know how hard it is 
for me to act as a companion, and I suppose I ought 
to be thankful that I have such a nice place. Mrs. Wolf 
does not look much like a wolf; she looks more like a 
sofa-pillow with a string tied around the middle. 


38 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER VI. 


HOMESICK. 

Early Monday morning Ethel began her duties as 
Mrs. Wolf’s companion. She was looking very pale, 
for she had spent a sleepless night. Then the parting 
with her mother had been very hard, for she had never 
gone away from her before. 

“Mrs. Wolf, where shall I put my satchel?” Ethel 
ventured to inquire after she had been there an hour 
and Mrs. Wolf had not told her where to put it, and 
had not shown her her room. 

“Come, I will show you where you are to sleep; and 
bring your satchel with you,” she answered. 

Ethel followed her guide to the second story; and 
great was her surprise when Mrs. Wolf started up a 
narrow flight of stairs that evidently led to the attic. 

With a sinking heart Ethel reached the attic, and then 
stood and gazed about in astonishment. -She had never 
been in such a place before, and was not prepared for 
the sight that her eyes rested upon. There was broken 
furniture of all kinds, chairs minus a leg or back, a 
table with only two legs, a couch with the springs stick- 
ing out, an old mattress, boxes and barrels of cast-off 
clothing, two old stoves, and things too numerous to men- 
tion. And indeed everything was piled up in such con- 
fusion that Mrs. Wolf could not tell herself what that 
attic contained. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


39 


A space in one corner large enough to hold a cot and 
a chair had been cleared, and to this spot Mrs. Wolf 
conducted Ethel. 

“This will have to be your room for a while, Ethel,” 
she said, kindly. “I am sorry I haven’t a better one to 
offer you, but I only have three bedrooms. One is my 
son’s room, and the next one I always have ready for 
my daughter; because she often comes and stays all 
night. Then the last one is mine. Then there is the 
bath-room and my son’s library; so you see there isn’t 
any room on the second floor that I could give you. I 
intended to have a room finished off up here and have 
ordered the carpenters to do it, but I suppose I will 
have to wait until they feel like doing it, they are so 
busy and independent. You see, this is an old house, 
and was built when this part of Newark was quite 
countrified. Well, you can hang your clothes up on 
these nails, while I go down and attend to my baking,” 
she said, pointing to some nails that had been driven 
into the rafters. 

When left alone, Ethel’s first impulse was to pick up 
her satchel and run home, for how could she sleep in 
a place like this? The first thing her eyes would rest 
upon in the morning would be the bare rafters over her 
head, while she was sure that the odor from the dirty, 
dusty rubbish that seemed to fill every nook and cor- 
ner would strangle her. There were three small win- 
dows, but they only added to her terror, for there were 
no shades to them, and suppose a storm should come up 
in the night, how could she stand it? 

But no! she must not go home and acknowledge her- 
self beaten so soon. She would be brave, and perhaps 
the carpenters would come soon, and make her a nice 
room, she meditated. 


40 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


Hastily unpacking her satchel and hanging up her 
scant wardrobe, she soon joined Mrs. Wolf in the 
kitchen. 

“Ethel, suppose we clean the pantry and china closet 
to-day?” 

Ethel answered in the affirmative, and they soon set 
to work. Shelf after shelf of dishes were taken down 
and washed. It seemed as if they never would get to 
the last of them, for Mrs. Wolf’s hobby was china, and 
she had a large collection of it, but about four o’clock 
they finished the dishes and straightened up the kitchen. 

“Thank goodness we have got through with that job,” 
thought Ethel. “Now I suppose we will sit down and 
rest, for I am certainly tired. I hope she will ask me 
to play for her, because nothing rests me like soft, sweet 
music, and that is just the kind I will play.” 

Imagine her disappointment and dismay when her mis- 
tress said : 

“Now, we will get dinner started, and while things 
are boiling we will change our clothes. My son gets 
home at six o’clock, and as he is always hungry I always 
try to have dinner ready.” 

It was five o’clock when Ethel climbed the attic stairs 
to dress for dinner. Mrs. Wolf had told her that she 
could wash and comb in the bathroom, because it would 
be less trouble than carrying water to her “room.” Mrs. 
Wolf also gave her a cracked mirror to hang on a beam 
so that she could see if her clothes were on straight. 

We will not try to read Ethel’s thoughts as she made 
her hasty toilet (for Mrs. Wolf had asked her to come 
down as soon as possible and set the table), but she 
looked pretty and refreshed when she made her appear- 
ance in the dining-room twenty minutes later. She had 
put on a cool, white lawn dress that she had helped her 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


4i 


mother make (for her mother made all of her clothes), 
and it was made daintily and prettily. Ethel was never 
happier than when she could dress in white, for white 
was most becoming to her. The only bit of color she 
wore was a pale blue ribbon with which she had tied 
back her curls. 

Ethel soon had the table set for three, as she had been 
told that she was to eat with the Wolfs. The name of 
Wolf amused Ethel very much, and her thoughts as she 
set the table ran something like this: “I do hope there 
will be plenty to eat on the table, for it is quite risky 
to eat at the same table with two wolfs.” 

Mr. Wolf came home about six o’clock. He was a 
tall, broad-shouldered young man about twenty-five 
years old. He spoke kindly to Ethel when his mother 
introduced her, saying he hoped she would be happy 
in their home, and he was glad that his mother had some- 
one to stay with her. 

They were soon seated at the table, and Mrs. Wolf 
brought in what she called onion soup. Ethel turned 
away with disgust when she saw it. She never would 
eat onions, for she detested them; and how could she 
eat this soup that was full of them? but if she did not 
eat some of it Mrs. Wolf might feel insulted. Crush- 
ing down the spirit that seemed to rebel, she finally suc- 
ceeded in eating a little bit, although she had to swallow 
hard two or three times after each spoonful to keep it 
down. 

The rest of the dinner was very good and passed off 
pleasantly. 

After dinner Mr. Wolf went to the library to write 
some business letters, and his mother and Ethel washed 
the dishes. It was about eight o’clock before the last 
dish was put away and they entered the parlor. Ethel 


42 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


looked longingly at the piano, but her hopes were dashed 
to fragments again as Mrs. Wolf said: “Will you please 
read the evening paper to me, while I darn these socks ?” 

About nine o’clock Mrs. Wolf said she was sleepy, 
and was going to retire; and then significantly handed 
Ethel a candle, which said plainer than words, “Do thou 
likewise.” 

Tuesday passed very much like the preceding day, only 
instead of cleaning pantries, they cleaned the two par- 
lors. Mrs. Wolf was a typical German woman, and did 
not believe in being idle a minute. 

Wednesday morning it rained very hard, and Ethel’s 
tears flowed as fast as the rain. It seemed as if she had 
lived ages since parting with her mother. Oh, if only 
she could leave this place, for she realized that she had 
been imposed upon ; and her cheeks burned with humilia- 
tion as she realized that she was nothing but a servant, 
instead of companion. She had not touched the piano or 
opened a school-book, for she had been kept busy with 
household drudgery. There was still another day to go 
through before she could flee to her mother for com- 
fort ; would to-morrow ever come ? 

“Ethel,” Mrs. Wolf said, coming into the room where 
Ethel was cleaning silver, “if you want to go home to- 
day instead of to-morrow you can, because we can’t do 
much work to-day while it rains, and it may be pleasant 
to-morrow so that we can clean the bedrooms.” 

It is hard to describe Ethel’s joy. She felt like a bird 
that had been taken captive, and after vainly beating its 
wings against the sides of its cage, had suddenly found 
a hole through which it could escape. 

She was soon on her way home, running most of the 
way. Turning a corner suddenly, about two blocks from 
home, she ran into the arms of her mother. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


43 

“Oh! mamma, it is good to see you! I have been 
so homesick,” Ethel sobbed. 

“So have we, Ethel ; our home has been desolate with- 
out you. I was just on the way to Mrs. Wolf’s to see 
you, for I could not wait until to-morrow. How is it 
that you came home to-day?” Mrs. Wright asked, with 
tears of joy in her eyes, as she put her arm around 
her daughter, and turned and walked back home. 

“I will explain when we get home,” Ethel answered. 

And Ethel did explain. She told everything that hap- 
pened, from the time she arrived at Mrs. Wolf’s until 
the time she left, without exaggerating in the least. 

Mrs. Wright was very indignant, especially when Ethel 
described her room. 

“Well, dear, you are not going back any more. I 
have good news for you. Papa has accepted a position 
in Ferris, a very pretty little country place about fifty 
miles from here. He is going there to-morrow and we 
will follow as soon as we can get the furniture packed. 
He is afraid this factory will close down entirely, and is 
fortunate to secure a position in time. I will go to 
Mrs. Wolf’s to-morrow and get your satchel, and tell 
her what I think of the way she deceived you.” 


44 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER VII. 


WILBUR GRAY. 

“Ethel, when you have finished Ella’s lesson, will you 
please come up to my room? I want to show you some- 
thing.” The speaker was Violet Borden, Ethel’s best 
friend. 

“All right, we’ll be through in about ten minutes ; and 
I have a half hour to spare before I give my next les- 
son,” she answered. 

The Wrights have resided in Ferris four years, and 
Ethel has been teaching music two years. She has 
been a very successful teacher and has a scholar for al- 
most every hour of the day. She is loved by all her 
scholars, for she is always so gentle and kind that even 
the most stupid child is encouraged to special efforts. 

Ethel is a very fine pianist, and is also gifted with a 
sweet voice. All her friends tell her that she is wast- 
ing her time and talent in a country town like Ferris. 

But she is very happy and loves to teach. If she went 
to the city, she would have to leave her mother, and that 
is something she does not want to do. 

When she finished Ella Borden’s lesson (Violet’s 
younger sister), she put her arm around the child and 
sweetly said: 

“No, Ella, see how hard you can practice this week. 
You did not know your lesson as well to-day as you 
usually do, but I know you will practice every day this 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


45 

week, won’t you, dear?” No child could resist her sweet 
voice, and Ella readily promised. 

Then she ran up the stairs to Violet’s room. It was 
a beautiful room, for the Borden’s were wealthy, and 
Violet had everything that money could buy to make 
her happy. 

“Here, Ethel, take this easychair, for you must be 
tired; drilling music into heads of stupid youngsters all 
day must be very trying on your nerves.” 

“I guess I haven’t any nerves, for I don’t mind it a 
bit. I know you won’t believe me when I say that I 
enjoy it,” Ethel answered, laughing. “But now to busi- 
ness. What did you want to show me? for you know 
my time is limited.” 

“It is these samples; will you help me choose one for 
a dress? All the girls are getting something new for 
May Adam’s party; and I want something pretty and 
entirely different from the others. You are a perfect 
genius at choosing and designing dresses, Ethel, and I 
know you will help me.” 

“I will help you all I can, Violet. These samples are 
beautiful, and I am sure we can find something that will 
make up well,” Ethel said, looking over the samples of 
costly silks which Violet showed her. 

“Oh, here is just the thing. This Nile green, silk 
chiffon crepe, trimmed with pond lilies made of rib- 
bon, and some artificial grasses would look lovely, and 
you would look just as fair as a lily, because green is 
very becoming to you. What do you think of my sug- 
gestion ?” 

“It is grand,” Violet answered, with sparkling eyes, 
“and I think you are a perfect jewel. I suppose you 
have heard that Wilbur Gray came home yesterday, and 
he has accepted an invitation to the party. That is the 


46 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


reason all the girls in Ferris are making such a fuss 
over the party. Have you ever met him?” 

“No, but I have heard of him. He has not been home 
since we came here.” 

“Well, Ethel, you must look your prettiest, for I have 
made a bet on your cutting all the other girls out at the 
party. Now, don’t look so shocked ‘Queenie’ (the girls’ 
pet name for Ethel), it was only a box of Huyler’s.” 

“Violet, don’t you know that is gambling, even if it is 
only a box of Huyler’s.” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” she reluctantly admitted, “but 
Irene Wood provoked me so I could not help it. She 
thinks that, because they were playmates when they were 
children, he will have eyes for no one but her now. 
She was bragging the other day about how much he used 
to think of her, and to hear her talk you would think 
they were engaged now. I don’t like her, and so I 
could not resist saying, ‘He might have liked you years 
ago, but you won’t stand much of a chance when he 
sees Queen Ethel.’ She did not like to hear that, and 
said she was ‘not jealous of a poor music teacher.’ 
That made me so angry I told her I would bet her a 
box of Huyler’s that Wilbur Gray would fall in love 
with you when he sees you.” 

“Violet,” Ethel said, in a distressed voice, “what made 
you say that? I haven’t the least desire to cut out Irene 
or any of the other girls, and, besides, Irene is right. 
Wilbur Gray would not stoop to a ‘poor music teacher.’ ” 

“Just wait and you will see that my prediction will 
come true. What are you going to wear?” 

“I have not given that a thought,” Ethel answered. 

“Then I guess you are the only girl in Ferris that re- 
ceived an invitation that has not thought about her 
dress.” 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


47 


“Well, I will look over my dresses when I get home 
and perhaps I can fix one over. I don’t want to buy 
a new one if I possibly can help it.” 

“I haven’t any fear but that you will look lovely, 
even if you wear an old dress; for you always look better 
than the rest of us girls, even if we are dressed in silks 
and you in lawn,” Violet answered, kissing her friend. 

“What a flatterer you are growing to be,” Ethel 
answered, laughing, “but I will have to hurry, for my 
time is up.” 

“I will send for the material for my ‘Sea Nymph’ 
dress at once. When I go to Madame B. to be fitted, 
will you go with me, if you are at leisure, and give her 
some suggestions ?” 

“Gladly,” Ethel said, as she started down the stairs. 
“Don’t bother coming to the door with me, Violet; I 
can let myself out. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye,” Violet answered throwing a kiss at her 
friend, for Violet and Ethel were more like sisters than 
friends. 

“Mamma,” Ethel said that evening, as they were wash- 
ing the supper dishes, “I have been looking over my best 
dresses. I only have two, and they have both been made 
over so many times that it is impossible to make them 
over again, and they are quite shabby. I really think I 
shall have to buy something new, to wear to May Adams’ 
party.” 

“I was thinking of that to-day, dear, when I was iron- 
ing your lawn dress, for that is badly worn. I am sure 
you deserve a new one, because you have not had a new 
dress this summer.” 

“Why, ma, this is only the first of June; summer has 
just begun,” Ethel answered, with a smile. “But I sup- 


48 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


pose I will have to have a new dress just the same. The 
party is one week from to-night; that will give us a week 
to make it in. What do you suppose I could get that 
would be inexpensive?” 

“I saw a very nice piece of white china silk when I 
was in the village the other day,” Mrs. Wright answered. 

“But, mamma, we can’t afford a silk dress.” 

“It would not be expensive. You will need only ten 
yards; and we can trim it with that lace that I ripped 
off of my wedding dress. You know china silk washes 
well, and, therefore, it would be very serviceable. You 
have never had a silk dress, daughter, and I long to see 
you in one.” 

“You are a dear, good mother,” Ethel exclaimed, kiss- 
ing her fondly. 

“Have you heard that the Grays came home from Eu- 
rope yesterday ? Really, it is disgusting the fuss the girls 
are making over Wilbur Gray. Everywhere I went to- 
day I heard nothing but ‘Wilbur Gray,’ until I almost 
hate the sound of the name.” 

“Aren’t you a little anxious to see the owner of it?” 
her mother asked, with a smile. 

“No, indeed, and there will be one girl at the party 
that will show him she has sense enough to wear her 
heart in the right place, and not on her sleeve,” Ethel 
answered with spirit. 

“I am pleased to hear you say that. Always remember, 
dear daughter, that it is not wealth that makes a man; 
for you will find just as many noble men among the poor 
class as among the wealthy.” 

The dishes done Ethel went into the parlor and sit- 
ting down before the piano began to play. At first she 
played lively, brilliant music, soon, however, a dreamy 
look stole over her face and she seemed to be thrilled 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


49 


with emotion as she began to play soft, sentimental 
melodies. At last she drifted into Tobani’s “Hearts and 
Flowers,” and the piano seemed to quiver and throb 
as with life at her touch. Although a very simple piece 
of music, it was one she loved, for to her it seemed so 
much like her life, with its sad and bright parts. 

She would have been startled if she could have seen 
the rapt spell-bound expression on the face of the young 
man that was leaning against the fence watching her. 

He had been strolling along, wondering what excuse 
he could make to his mother, so that he could leave this 
“dull, sleepy town,” when he was surprised to hear such 
excellent music coming from an unprepossessing looking 
house, a few yards ahead of him. Quickening his steps 
he soon stood before the house. The shades were up, 
and as the house was near the street he had an excellent 
view of the interior. 

He gave a start of surprise as his eyes rested upon 
the pianist. 

“Great guns!” he ejaculated, “where did she come 
from? I never saw her before, and she certainly is a 
peach. I guess this town is not as dull as I thought; 
it can’t be with a pretty girl like her in it.” 

Just then she began to play “Hearts and Flowers,” 
and it touched him as no music had ever done before, 
although he had heard the productions of some of the 
best masters both at home and abroad. 

For the young man was Wilbur Gray. 


50 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER VIII. 


“only a poor music teacher.” 

“Gee, whiz, sis, you look stunning,” Russell exclaimed, 
gazing at his sister with admiration. “All the other girls 
will look like thirty cents when you get to the party. 
Say, let me pinch you, to see if you are real ; for that 
white shiny stuff hanging around you makes you look 
like the fairy Eve just been reading about, and I almost 
expect to see you vanish through the wall, like she did.” 

“I’m afraid you read too many fairy tales, Russell; 
but I thank you for the compliment,” Ethel replied, 
laughing and bringing into play her dimples. 

Russell was not exaggerating when he said she looked 
“stunning.” Ethel was certainly a vision of loveliness. 
Her china silk dress was made very artistically and fell 
in graceful folds on the floor. It was made high in the 
neck with elbow sleeves, for although Ethel had a beauti- 
ful white neck and shoulders, she never wore a low- 
necked dress. To her it was improper the way in which 
some girls uncovered their necks, shoulders and arms. 
If some rude fellow stared or made a remark about it, 
saying they were “so shocked,” Ethel never blamed the 
young man, for if the girls would appear in public wear- 
ing only an apology for a waist, how could the young 
men respect them? 

She had a way of wearing her hair entirely her own, 
and the curls that would escape and fall over her fore- 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


5i 


head only made her look more charming. To-night there 
was a happy look in her eyes that made her look radiant, 
for Ethel Wright, at eighteen, is a beautiful girl. 

Just then the Borden carriage stopped at the door, 
for Mrs. Borden had kindly invited Ethel to go with 
them. So, throwing a white shawl over her shoulders, 
amid the good wishes of her mother and brother, and 
“Don’t stay out all night, miss,” from her father; Ethel 
entered the carriage and was soon on her way to the 
scene of festivity. 

After a drive of fifteen minutes they reached their 
destination, and very beautiful was the scene their eyes 
rested upon. 

Large Chinese lanterns were strung between trees, all 
over the spacious grounds surrounding the Adams’ man- 
sion; while numerous fountains glistened in the moon- 
light. The air was laden with the perfume of roses, 
for Mrs. Adams was very fond of roses, and had the 
largest and finest collection of them in Ferris. Even 
nature seemed to be doing her best to make the party 
a success, for a fairer, brighter June night could not be 
imagined. 

As yet there were only a few “sweethearts” strolling 
about the grounds, for dancing had just begun in the 
brightly illuminated ball-room. 

Violet and Ethel entered the ball-room just at the 
close of a dance. All eyes were turned on them, for 
very striking they looked side by side. Violet with her 
dark brown tresses and glowing cheeks ; Ethel with her 
fair hair and complexion. 

They were soon surrounded by a group of admiring 
friends, for both girls were very brilliant conversation- 
alists and quick at repartee. 

Mrs. Gray and her son had arrived some time before 


52 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


the Borden party. She was a very haughty woman, and 
very proud of her handsome son. 

Wilbur Gray was an admirer of beauty, and it was 
with pleasure that he watched Violet and Ethel as they 
entered the room. He was well acquainted with Violet, 
and knew that she was the affianced of Harry Marsh. 
But who could this fair one be? With a start he recog- 
nized the young lady whose music had so charmed him 
the other evening. 

His mother had also seen them enter, and, turning to 
Irene Wood (who, the other girls said, stuck to the 
Grays like a plaster) said, “Who is that pretty girl with 
Violet Borden?” 

“She is Miss Wright, the village music teacher,” 
Irene answered, scornfully. 

“How is it that she is here, then?” Mrs. Gray in- 
quired, in a haughty tone. 

“She moves in the best of society around here. She 
is a bold, designing girl, and has wormed her way into 
the most exclusive homes. I have seen right through 
her motives from the beginning, and never could tolerate 
her.” Irene said this for the benefit of Wilbur, for 
she had seen the admiration on his face as he watched 
Ethel. 

“And so,” thought Wilbur, “that little beauty is only 
a poor music teacher. Well, she looks more like a queen 
holding court, with all those fellows hanging around 
her. I guess Irene’s remarks were only ‘sour grapes.’ 
Well, there won’t be any harm in getting an introduc- 
tion to her, and I mean to get one.” 

He soon found a friend who presented him to Ethel. 

Wilbur was charmed with her low, sweet voice, but 
was rather piqued at the indifferent manner in which 
she received him. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


53 

“Miss Wright, have you a waltz to spare for me?” he 
asked in his most winning tone. 

“I think my card is full,” she answered, turning away. 

This was new treatment for Wilbur. He had never 
been refused a dance before, and was sometimes dis- 
gusted by the way the girls showed their eagerness to 
dance with him; but Ethel’s indifference only made him 
more anxious to secure a waltz, for he had noted how 
lightly and gracefully she danced. 

Just then a very pale young man approached. “Miss 
Wright, I will have to release you from that waltz you 
promised me ; for I have just received bad news and must 
hasten home. My brother has met with an accident 
while riding in an automobile.” 

“Oh! I am so sorry,” Ethel exclaimed. “I hope you 
won’t find him seriously hurt.” 

“I hope not,” he answered as he hurried off. 

“Miss Wright, may I have the honor of dancing that 
waltz with you?” Wilbur asked in a beseeching voice. 

Not having a reasonable excuse to offer, Ethel prom- 
ised the waltz to him. Although he hovered around her 
all the evening, she never paid any attention to him, but 
chatted and smiled with all her friends. 

At last the waltz that he had been waiting impatiently 
for came. 

In spite of Ethel’s resolution to be distant and cold 
to him, she could not help the happy feeling that stole 
over her, as he led her out on the floor. They glided 
through the steps of the waltz as in a dream, for they 
were both fine dancers. 

After the dance he led her out to a seat beside a large 
fountain. 

The grandeur of the night seemed to have woven a 
charm about them, for they sat in silence some time. 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


54 


“Miss Wright, what have I done to displease you?” 
Wilbur finally said. 

“You have not displeased me,” Ethel answered in 
astonishment. 

“Then why have you been so cruel to me ?” he asked. 
“Do you know that you have made me miserable by 
your coldness?” 

“Now, Mr. Gray, I know you are only joking,” Ethel 
answered, laughing. “Even if I did treat you as you 

accuse me of doing, why need you care, when all the ” 

Ethel caught herself here and stopped in confusion. 

“Yes, I know what you were about to say, ‘when all 
the other girls were willing to be kind to me.’ Wasn’t 
that it? Now, tell me why you were so unkind to me, 
while you were kind to everyone else?” he asked per- 
suasively. 

“I did not mean to be unkind, and besides you were a 
perfect stranger to me until a few hours ago.” 

“But you are not as much a stranger to me, for I 
stood and watched you playing the piano a week ago to- 
night. Now, please don’t be angry,” he said, as he 
saw her face flush, “I know I was mean to watch you, 
but I am very fond of music and couldn’t tear myself 
from the spot until you had finished playing. Now, you 
are not angry at me again, are you?” 

“I have not been angry, and am not now,” Ethel 
answered, and in spite of herself she could not help 
liking Wilbur, and so, when he said : 

“Miss Wright, may I have the pleasure of calling 
some evening and bringing some music that my sister 
used to play?” 

She answered, “Yes, if you wish; but doesn’t she play 
now ?” 

“No,” he answered, sadly, “she has been dead two 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


55 


years; she died while we were abroad. We went in 
search of health for her, but she died very suddenly, 
just as we thought she was recovering. It was hard 
to come home without her, and that is why we stayed 
away so long.” 

Ethel was deeply touched, for there were tears in 
Wilbur’s eyes as he spoke of his sister. 

“Forgive me, Miss Wright,” he said, “I didn’t mean 
to trouble you with my sorrow.” 

“I am glad you did tell me about it,” Ethel answered, 
earnestly, “and if I can comfort you any by playing her 
music, I shall be pleased to do so.” 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


56 


CHAPTER IX. 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

“What time did you get home?” were the first words 
with which Mr. Wright greeted Ethel the next morning. 

“I think it was a little after twelve,” Ethel answered, 
frankly. 

“Twelve o’clock,” he said with a sneer, “there is no 
need of you trying to lie to me, for I heard you come 
home. It was three o’clock when you landed home; 
for I looked at the clock.” 

“Why, papa, how can you say that? It was just 
twelve o’clock when the carriage turned out of the 
Adams’ gates, and we came home very quickly, for the 
horses knew they were headed for home. I could not 
leave before the Borden’s, could I?” 

“No, I suppose not,” he admitted reluctantly. “But 
don’t you ever ask to go anywhere with them again.” 

“Papa, you are unreasonable. What objection can 
you possibly have to any member of the Borden family ?” 
Ethel inquired, while her eyes filled with indignant tears. 

“They are making a regular ‘night owl’ out of you. 
That is what I object to. Out every night until mid- 
night; do you suppose I am going to allow that?” he 
snarled. 

“This is the first time I have been out later than ten 
o’clock in three months.” 

“Ethel!” said Mrs. Wright, coming into the room, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


57 

“don’t mind him. He is cross this morning and has not 
a kind word for anyone.” 

“That’s right. Take her part and let her out every 
night until she gets to be the talk of the town,” sneered 
Mr. Wright, springing up angrily. 

“Harold, I don’t want to quarrel with you, but I can- 
not keep quiet when I hear you accuse Ethel of things 
that are not true. I heard her come in, and it was 
only ten minutes past twelve. You know that Ethel 
very seldom gets out in the evening, and when she does 
is always home early, so why do you always find fault 
with her?” 

“That’s right! Take her part as usual. One lies and 
the other swears to it,” and picking up his hat and 
slamming the door behind him, Mr. Wright went to 
work. 

Mr. Wright and Ethel did not agree very well. Ethel 
had the firm, determinate spirit like her grandfather 
Wright, and therefore her father could not bend her 
to his will. 

His greatest grievance against her was that she would 
not give him every dollar she earned, but although he 
threatened to put her out, nagged at her, and in fact 
made it as uncomfortable for her as possible, she re- 
mained firm ; for she knew she was doing right. Every 
dollar that she gave her father only meant a dollar more 
to carry to the saloon. 

They were living in a very pretty little house, and it 
Ethel’s ambition to furnish it better. 

She always gave her mother five dollars a week to- 
ward housekeeping expenses, clothed herself and Rus- 
sell, and spent the remainder for something to improve 
their home. But this did not satisfy her father; what 
did he care for his home? It was good enough for him 


58 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


without fancy furniture, and he would sooner have had 
the money for liquor, for he still spent Saturday nights 
visiting saloons. 

After Mr. Wright left the house Mrs. Wright and 
Ethel finished their breakfast in peace, for Russell was 
still sleeping, while Ethel gave her mother the account 
of the party, and told her that Wilbur Gray was com- 
ing to call some evening. 

Wilbur Gray was in deep thought as he slowly strolled 
along the beach to the landing where his canoe was fast- 
ened. Stepping into the canoe he pushed off and paddled 
up stream, but still there was a troubled look on his 
face. 

“Oh, hang it!” he muttered, “why didn’t Bob wait 
until a fellow had been home long enough to get rested, 
before he got up his house party? I don’t want to go, 
and I don’t want to disappoint him. What the dickens 
am 1 going to do about it? Dear old Bob! Many a 
scrape he got me out of, and many a one he prevented 
me from getting into, in those good old college days 
when we were room-mates. What’s the matter with 
me, anyway? Last week I would have hailed his in- 
vitation with joy and rushed off on the next train, and 
now Ferris seems the finest spot on earth.” 

It was not the pretty little seaside town of Ferris, 
or even his beautiful and luxurious home, that made 
Ferris seem the finest spot on earth to Wilbur. It was 
a pretty face with clear, bright eyes that seemed to be 
of unfathomable depths; a delicate oval face almost 
without color, crowned in splendor with golden curls; 
and a rounded, slim figure clad in a white gown. 

The sun was setting in splendor, and the waters were 
as blue as the sky, as Wilbur paddled slowly, lazily on, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


59 


without a thought of the beauty around him; resolving 
one moment to accept Bob’s invitation, and the next, 
to stay and see more of the girl that interested him so 
strangely. He was in this frame of mind when, round- 
ing a curve, he suddenly came upon the fair object of 
his thoughts. 

Sitting on the grassy bank, her hat lying beside her, 
was Ethel Wright. She did not hear the approach of 
the canoe, but seemed to be very much interested in a 
book, and so it was with a genuine start of surprise 
that Ethel looked up, having heard the grating of the 
canoe on the sand, as Wilbur pulled it out of the water. 

“Good evening, Miss Wright,” Wilbur called, cheer- 
fully, “I hope I am not intruding. If I am say so, and I 
will go away.” 

“No, indeed,” she answered, frankly. “The sun has 
set so fast, I can scarcely see to study; and I was just 
thinking of going home.” 

“Please, don’t go so soon. It is beautiful on the 
water, and the moon will soon be up. Do you like 
sailing?” 

“Yes, I am very fond of it.” 

“I am sorry I haven’t my sail-boat or launch here, 
but this canoe was built for two. Please take pity on 
a lonely fellow, for I find it stupid paddling about 
alone,” he said, persuasively. 

“I think a canoe is so treacherous and tricky,” Ethel 
said, as she hesitated. 

“That is, if one doesn’t know how to handle it, but 
I have handled one ever since I was knee-high to a 
grasshopper,” he said, eagerly. 

“Well, I will go with you, but I can’t stay out much 
longer,” she said, picking up her hat and walking down 
the bank. 


6o 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


Wilbur forgot all about Bob’s invitation in his de- 
light of having so unexpectedly secured so fair a com- 
panion. He could scarcely keep his eyes off of her, for 
Ethel, seated among the cushions in the bow, was a 
picture to please the eye of any lover of beauty, especially 
if that one happened to be a young man who had only 
passed twenty-five mile stones. 

“Miss Wright, did I hear you say that you were 
studying before I interrupted you?” he inquired. 

“Yes,” she answered, flushing, “I was studying 
French.” 

“Are you preparing for college?” he asked in sur- 
prise. 

“Oh, no. I am simply studying because I love it, and 
I am anxious to learn to speak and write French and 
German. I suppose you wonder what possible use I 
can have for languages. To tell the truth I don’t know 
myself, but a girl that has to make her own living 
ought to improve every opportunity for study, for she 
never can tell when just the thing that seems most use- 
less will prove a great help to her in her work. At least, 
that is my idea,” she added with a bright smile. 

“And no doubt a very good one,” Wilbur answered, 
earnestly. Ethel was a surprise to him, for he had never 
met a girl like her before, one that had to work for her 
living and seemed proud to acknowledge it. As he 
looked at her delicate hands, he earnestly wished he 
could keep them from toil, and could shield her from 
every care. A feeling almost of shame stole over him 
as he compared his life with hers. She, a fair, frail 
woman, working for her daily bread, while he, a big, 
strong man, had never worked a day of his life, and 
had all the pleasure that wealth could give, without ever 
a thought of care. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


61 


“Have you a teacher to instruct you in languages ?” he 
inquired. 

“No, I am my own teacher,” Ethel replied, smiling 
at the look of surprise on his face. “I had just taken 
up languages when circumstances compelled me to leave 
school. I had gotten a pretty good start, however, and 
so did not give up, but studied as best I could, with now 
and then a little help from our pastor, but he is a very 
busy man and I don’t like to trouble him very often.” 

“Miss Wright, let me help you. You know I have 
been to Germany and France, and I can speak both 
languages fluently,” Wilbur exclaimed with irrepres- 
sible joy, “and you know it would also be a .great help 
to me, as it will keep me in practice. We have the whole 
summer before us, and nothing would be more delight- 
ful than coming to the cool banks of the river every 
evening before sunset, and studying, and then when it 
gets too dark to study, we will spend a while on the 
water. Now, say, is not my plan a good one?” 


62 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER X. 


“a good match.” 

“Mr. Gray, I heartily appreciate and thank you for 
your kind offer,” Ethel answered, with a wistful look 
in her eyes, “and although I would like to accept it, I 
cannot. It is utterly impossible.” 

“I don’t see why it is impossible,” he answered. 

“I do,” she said, with a grave smile. 

“Then please enlighten me, for I fail to see any 
reasonable objection to my plan.” 

“Well,” she said, looking at him with her clear, truth- 
ful eyes, “the first objection is that my father does not 
allow me to come down here every evening. And an- 
other reason why I cannot accept your offer is, that it 
will set the village gossips busy talking, if I, a poor 
music teacher, should be seen studying every evening 
with you, the owner of about half of Ferris.” 

“Oh ! the dickens with the old gossips,” he exclaimed, 
impatiently. “Please excuse that expression, but it is 
provoking not to be able to do as you please without 
having some one talk about it. Well, let them talk and 
they will wish they hadn’t, if I hear about it.” 

Ethel’s silvery laugh rang out over the water at his 
outburst. 

“But there is another objection, you know. Papa 
does not allow me to go out every evening; he says a 
girl’s place is at home at night and not on the street.” 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


63 


“If you can’t come every evening, couldn’t you man- 
age to come once or twice a week?” Wilbur eagerly in- 
quired. 

“Perhaps,” Ethel answered, with renewed interest. 

“Then it is settled,” he said, joyfully. “Behold in me, 
Professor Gray; at your service, madam,” he said, with 
a grave bow. 

“You jump at conclusions too quickly,” she said, laugh- 
ing merrily, “for I can’t promise to study with you until 
I have the consent of my parents.” 

“Don’t you ever decide anything for yourself?” he 
asked, in surprise. 

“Oh, yes; but I usually depend upon the approval of 
my mother, for she is wiser than I and always knows 
what is best for me,” Ethel answered, with a sweet smile 
that told more than words how dear her mother was to 
her. 

Suddenly they heard the shrill whistle of a train, and 
the next moment it thundered over the bridge. 

“That is the 8:30 express,” she cried, in alarm. “Oh, 
please take me to the shore as quickly as possible. My 
father will be angry if I stay out this evening, because 
I was out last night. I had no idea it was so late.” 

They soon reached the shore, and Wilbur insisted upon 
seeing her home. 

“What will you do with your canoe?” 

“I will fix that all right,” he answered, pulling it out 
of the water; “the tide is going out, so it will be safe 
here until I come back after it.” 

They soon reached Ethel’s home, and, as he seemed 
reluctant to leave, she invited him in. 

The evening passed very pleasantly, and at its close his 
opinion of Ethel was higher than ever. It was impos- 
sible not to like Mrs. Wright, she was so gentle and 


64 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


refined, and Wilbur thought Mr. Wright a fine man, 
for he always acted the part of a courteous, polished 
gentleman when strangers were around ; and people never 
knew what a tyrant he was at other times, for his wife 
and children were too proud to tell of it. Russell quite 
took his fancy, he was so jolly and good natured. On 
the whole, he was well pleased with Ethel’s family and 
surroundings. The parlor, although not elegantly fur- 
nished, like the ones he was accustomed to enter, was 
very cozy and made one feel at home, but what pleased 
him most was that he had induced Mr. and Mrs. Wright 
to consent to let Ethel study languages twice a week 
with him. 

After leaving the Wrights he walked to the beach, 
where he had left his canoe. He soon had it into the 
water, and, getting in, made for the landing at the foot of 
his estate, a little further down the stream. 

Having put the canoe up for the night, he lit a cigar 
and slowly made his way through the winding path to 
the house. 

His thoughts were full of Ethel. Could it be possible, 
he asked himself, that he loved her? 

He, Wilbur Gray, the one that had always scoffed 
at other fellows for being in love, and a poor girl at 
that; what would his friends say if they knew it? and 
his proud lady mother? But Ethel was every inch a 
lady, and fit to grace the grandest home. What a pic- 
ture she would make, dressed in costly apparel, moving 
about in his handsome home; and in his mind he pic- 
tured her there. He had been fascinated by many pretty 
faces, but this feeling he had for Ethel was something 
different, and he would not accept Bob’s invitation 
either. Why should he go to a stupid old house party, 
when there was better entertainment right at home? 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


65 


“But Bob expects you; don’t leave him in the lurch,” 
whispered his conscience. “Well, he has no right to 
expect me, just because I always came at his beck and 
call,” he finally muttered, “and I won’t go! I should 
be bored to death.” 

He forgot all about the time that a house party at Bob 
Reed’s meant anything but a bore ; and he had always de- 
clared it the hit of the season. 

Just then the hall door opened, and his mother and 
Irene Wood stood in the glare of the light. Wilbur 
hastily stepped behind a tree, for the moon was so bright 
it was almost as light as day, and he did want them to 
discover him. 

“Good-night, dear Mrs. Gray,” he heard Irene say, in 
gushing tones. “I have enjoyed the evening very much, 
although I did miss my old playfellow a little. Tell Wil- 
bur that I feel neglected ; he has been home over a week 
and has not called on me.” 

“I don’t doubt but that he has been anxious to see you. 
The dear boy has been so busy superintending some al- 
terations on the lawn, and getting his boats ready, he has 
not had time,” came the answer in Mrs. Gray’s clear 
voice. “I know he will be very sorry that he missed see- 
ing you to-night, but come in often, for Wilbur is lone- 
some.” 

After a few more words that Wilbur did not under- 
stand, Irene entered her waiting carriage and was driven 
rapidly of! ; while Mrs. Gray stepped into the house and 
he heard the heavy door close with a bang. 

Wilbur gave a low whistle, as, leaving his place of con- 
cealment, he ejaculated : “Now I suppose I will have to 
give an account of where I have spent the evening, and if 
I give a true one, there will be the devil to pay. Mother 
told me this morning that Irene was coming to spend the 


66 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


evening, and I promised to help entertain her, but I for- 
got all about it. I don’t like her, anyway, with her 
studied society airs, and glances. And so my dear mother 
thinks I am lonely. Ha ! ha !” he broke off, laughing. “I 
wonder what she would say if she knew that I had 
planned to instruct the sweetest girl in Ferris, in lan- 
guages ? I guess it will be wise not to tell her.” 

Mrs. Gray was sitting in a deep armchair gazing at 
the lifesize portrait of her lost daughter when Wilbur 
entered the room. 

“Hello, mother,” he said cheerfully, throwing himself 
on a rug at her feet, “I did not mean to leave you alone 
so long, but it was so beautiful on the water and the time 
passed so quickly I had no idea it was so late.” 

“I have not been alone. You know I told you this 
morning that Irene was coming,” she answered, running 
her jeweled fingers through his hair for his head rested 
against her knee. 

“I forgot all about it. Has she been here?” he asked, 
in well-feigned surprise. 

“Yes, and she feels neglected because you have not 
called on her. Irene is a fine girl and comes from an 
excellent family. She will make someone a good wife.” 

“I suppose so,” he said, absently, thinking of one who 
would make a still better wife. 

“Wilbur,” Mrs. Gray said, looking tenderly at him, “we 
need a lively young girl in this big house to brighten us 
up. Although Anna was always in poor health, she was 
cheerful and bright. No one, not even you, can know 
how I miss my daughter, but there is some comfort in the 
thought that you will bring me another daughter some 
day.” 

“So you want me to settle down and get married?” 
Wilbur asked lightly, looking up into his mother’s face. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


67 


“Yes, my dear son,” she answered; “you know I am 
getting old, and I would gladly give the management of 
this large house into younger hands.” 

“Mother, would you welcome any girl that I would 
choose for my wife?” he asked, eagerly. 

“Why, of course,” she answered, surprised at his ques- 
tion, “for I know that my son would not choose a wife 
that was not considered a good match.” 

“What do you mean by a good match?” 

“A girl that would be considered your equal both in 
family and fortune. I know that my son will never dis- 
grace me by marrying a poor girl, no matter how hand- 
some she may be,” his mother answered with pride. 

It was well that Wilbur’s face was turned away from 
his mother, for she would have been startled if she could 
have seen its expression. 


68 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XI. 


“i CANNOT STAY, FOR MY MOTHER NEEDS ME BY HER SIDE.” 

The summer passed too rapidly to please our heroine 
and Wilbur. To Ethel it was the happiest summer of 
her life. 

Wilbur proved to be a very good teacher, and Ethel 
advanced very rapidly in her studies. But alas, he not 
only taught her to speak French and German, but he 
taught her to love him. She did not realize at first 
the third, and dangerously sweet lesson she was learn- 
ing; but gradually the truth dawned upon her. For if 
she did not love him, why did her heart beat so fast 
whenever he approached? and why did the sound of his 
voice thrill her? Still Ethel guarded her secret well, and 
Wilbur never could tell by word or glance whether she 
loved him or not. 

He knew that he loved her with a pure, deep love, and 
oh ! how he longed to tell her so, and ask her to become 
his wife. 

After the sun had set, and twilight, stealing over the 
village, compelled them to close their books, they would 
spend the evening on the water, and then Wilbur would 
tell her stories of the beauty and grandeur of some of the 
countries he had visited, and Ethel, listening to his soft 
winning voice, seemed to see the places he described so 
vividly, and sometimes it was almost impossible for Wil- 
bur to control himself, and not clasp her in his arms and 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


69 


tell her that he would take her all over the world, as he 
saw the yearning, hungry look in her eyes, that told how 
she longed to see the Old World. 

There were two reasons why Wilbur dare not tell 
Ethel of his love. One was, that he was not sure that 
she loved him in return, for he knew his wealth and 
position would count as naught if she did not really love 
him ; and the other reason, and possibly the main one, was 
he was afraid of his mother’s anger. 

His father had died when he was a lad of fourteen, 
and his last words were: “Wilbur take good care of 
your mother. Promise that you will never leave her, or 
cause her any sorrow.” And Wilbur promised, not 
realizing how hard it would be to keep that promise. 

Mrs. Gray heard that Wilbur was often seen in Ethel 
Wright’s company, and although it annoyed her, she was 
not worried; for Wilbur had been fascinated with a 
pretty face before, and the least she said about it the 
quicker he grew tired of it ; so she did not forbid him to 
see Ethel, but contented herself with making cutting re- 
marks about her, and thinking he would soon grow tired 
of his new fancy. 

So Wilbur could not make Ethel his wife, unless he 
broke the promise he made to his dying father. From 
the bitter words his mother often said about rich men 
marrying poor girls, he knew that she would rather see 
him buried, than married to Ethel Wright. 

Sometimes he decided he would go away and try to 
forget Ethel; then he would change his mind as the 
thought came that perhaps she would marry someone else, 
if he did not stay and prevent it, for he hoped that some- 
thing would happen so that Mrs. Gray would learn to 
love Ethel, and he would be free to win her. In the 
meantime he would be with her as often as possible, thus 


70 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


keeping the other fellows away ; but something happened 
to spoil his plans, something he did not dream of. 

As the days had grown considerably shorter it became 
impossible to study in the evening beside the river, and 
as school had opened, Ethel found that she had a few 
hours leisure during the day, as many of her scholars 
were children attending school, and had to postpone their 
music lessons until after school and evenings; so on a 
clear afternoon Ethel would walk to their trysting place 
beside the river with her books, and she usually found 
Wilbur waiting for her. 

It was a balmy afternoon in September, and as it was 
their lesson day, Wilbur made his way to the bench be- 
tween two trees beside the river, where Ethel and he 
studied. He was in elated spirits as he strolled along, 
whistling a lively air. He was a little surprised to see 
Ethel there, for it was early and he usually was the first 
to arrive. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Wright,” he said cheerfully, 
“you are early. What is the matter, are you ill?” he 
inquired in alarm, as she turned to greet him. Her face 
was as white as marble, and her eyes looked as if sleep 
had been a stranger to them for a week. 

“No, I am not iW,” she answered abruptly, but he saw 
her lips quiver as she glanced down on her book. 

Something evidently was wrong, he could plainly see; 
but he was too much of a gentleman to force her confi- 
dence. He had never seen a shadow on her face before, 
for in his presence she was always bright and smiling. 
Ah ! little he knew what an aching heart her smiles often 
covered, after a severe but undeserved reproof from her 
father. 

They went quietly on with their studies for a little 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


7i 

while, but Ethel seemed preoccupied and committed many 
blunders. 

“It is no use trying. I can’t study to-day,” she said 
at last, closing her book. 

“Miss Wright, I know you are in trouble. Can’t I 
help you?” Wilbur asked, looking as if he longed to take 
her in his arms and comfort her. 

“Thank you for your kind sympathy, but there is noth- 
ing you can do to help me,” Ethel answered sadly. “I 
want to thank you for your kindness to me this summer, 
for you have helped me wonderfully with my studies. 
Mr. Gray, we are going to move out of town, and our 
days of study are over,” she exclaimed hurriedly, as if 
she could not keep the cause of her sorrow a secret an- 
other moment. 

To say Wilbur was surprised is putting it mildly. Had 
a thunderbolt dropped out of the clear sky, he could 
not have been more surprised. 

“Did you say you were going to leave town?” he asked, 
in a dazed voice. 

“Yes!” she answer, “we go just as soon as we can 
pack the furniture.” 

“But why are you going? Didn’t your father have 
steady work here ?” 

“Yes, he had a fine position here, but a new shop 
opened in Riverside recently, and he has been anxious 
to go there ever since. I am sorry to say that papa has a 
very restless nature, and is not satisfied to stay in one 
town very long,” she sadly explained. 

“Then why don’t you let him go, and you stay here?” 
he eagerly inquired. “You can make a good living here; 
and I know that Violet Borden would be delighted to 
have you stay with her.” 


72 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


Ethel shook her head as she softly answered: “I can- 
not stay, for my mother needs me by her side.” 

He did not realize how hard it was for Ethel to leave 
Ferris, where she was well known and loved, and go to 
a strange town. She would have to give up all her 
pupils, and begin at the bottom of the ladder in Riverside 
and work her way up ; but her heaviest cross was leaving 
Wilbur. 

She had not closed her eyes in sleep the night before, 
but had spent the most of the night reading her Bible and 
praying for strength to take up her cross and truthfully 
say, “Not my will, but Thine be done.” She was abund- 
antly able to support herself in Ferris, but she would not 
leave her mother. For Ethel always cheered her by her 
comforting words and loving care, and she would not feel 
contented if she did not go to Riverside, and help her 
mother bear her burden. 

Wilbur knew that Mr. Wright frequented the saloons 
and had often seen him intoxicated; but he never knew 
how he abused his family. 

“Can’t you persuade your father to stay here?” Wil- 
bur asked. 

“Oh ! you don’t know my father,” Ethel answered with 
a wan smile, “when he makes up his mind to do some- 
thing, all the coaxing in the world could not change him. 
Besides, he has gone. He gave up his position here yes- 
terday after a quarrel with his foreman, then he tele- 
graphed to the Riverside shop, and this morning he re- 
ceived word to come at once, so he left on the noon train.” 

As the truth gradually became clear to Wilbur, that 
Ethel was really going to leave him, he realized how 
much he loved her, and how void his life would be 
without her. 

No, his heart cried, he could not lose her; and un- 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


73 


mindful of his mother’s disapproval, he cried: “Ethel, 
my darling, I can’t lose you. Haven’t you seen how 
much I love you? Tell me that my love is not in vain, 
and that you will be my wife, for I love you as man never 
loved before. Darling, look up! Let me read your 
answer in your eyes.” 


74 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XII. 


SUSPENSE. 

But still she did not look up, and a terrible fear stole 
over him. Could it be that she did not love him? 

“Sweetheart!” he cried, in an agony of suspense, 
“speak! Can’t you see how your silence is hurting me? 
Darling, if you promise to be my wife you will never 
regret it, for I am sure I can make you happy. Oh, let 
me hear you say, ‘Wilbur, I love you.’ ” 

Slowly she raised her head and looking at him with 
eyes shining with love, softly said : “Wilbur, I love you.” 

With a cry of joy, Wilbur clasped her in his arms, rain - 
ing passionate kisses on her unresisting lips. 

We will not dwell upon the conversation that followed, 
but for an hour all thoughts of wealth, position and 
mother were forgotten in their new-found happiness. 

“Wilbur!” Ethel said, suddenly, “what will your 
mother say? Will she be willing to have you marry a 
poor music teacher?” 

With a start Wilbur remembered his mother; and 
words failed him as the thought of the trouble before him 
became clear. 

“Ah, I can see by your silence that your mother will 
not consent to your marrying me,” she exclaimed, in fear. 

“Darling, I will be truthful,” said he, looking at her 
earnestly. “You no doubt have heard that my mother 
is a very proud woman, and she has high ideas for me. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


75 


I know that she will not give her consent now, and I 
would not break her heart by marrying without her con- 
sent, but darling, are you willing to wait for me? For I 
am sure that something will happen to make her love you, 
and consent to our union.” 

“Wilbur, I would rather wait for you all my life and 
be sure of your love, than to lose it ; but what will your 
friends say if you marry beneath you?” 

“Hush ! Don’t say that, for you are my superior, and 
they would all acknowledge it.” 

Suddenly a shudder passed over Ethel. “Are you 
cold?” he inquired in surprise. 

“No,” she answered, “it was not cold that made me 
shudder, but an awful thought.” 

“What was it, dear?” he tenderly inquired. 

“Oh, Wilbur! Something seems to tell me that when 
I am far away from you, that your mother will make you 
forget me,” Ethel cried out in pain. 

“Does my darling doubt me, so soon?” 

“I don’t doubt your love for me now, but I can’t shake 
off the presentiment that you will forget me.” 

But Wilbur soothed her with kisses and promises, and 
he soon brought the smiles back to her face. 

They agreed to keep their engagement secret (with 
the exception of telling Mrs. Wright), until their pros- 
pects were brighter. 

Ethel insisted upon telling her mother, for she had 
never had a secret from her; and she knew that it would 
be impossible to keep from telling her. So it was decided 
that, when they were settled in Riverside, Ethel would 
tell her mother, knowing that she could trust her not to 
tell it further. 

Two weeks later the Wrights left Ferris and were soon 


76 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


settled in a small house in Riverside. It was a very lively 
place in summer, when the hotels on the river front were 
filled with guests, but in the winter the town was almost 
desolate. 

Ethel found it harder than she had thought to become 
reconciled to the change. Oh, how she longed to leave 
everything, and fly back to her friends and lover in 
Ferris. 

It was also hard to secure pupils at first ; but gradually 
she became known, and pupils came to her from the 
neighboring villages as well as from Riverside. 

Ethel was a very sociable girl, and soon made many 
friends, but she would not accept any invitations to go 
to any amusements with the young men. An engage- 
ment was as sacred to Ethel as marriage, and as she was 
engaged to Wilbur, had she any right to go out with 
any other young man? No, she told herself. 

So the winter passed, very quietly and slowly. The 
only lively times they had were on Saturday nights, when 
Mr. Wright came home intoxicated, and stirred things up. 

But there was a bright gleam of sunshine in Ethel’s 
dark sky, and that was her two weekly letters from 
Wilbur. Oh, how eagerly she would watch for his let- 
ters, and how disappointed she was when the letter 
failed to arrive on the day she expected it. 

There were days when she felt very despondent, and 
could not shake of! the feeling that Wilbur would grow 
tired of this separation and waiting, and would marry 
to please his mother. 

Wilbur had written regularly all winter, but one day 
early in April his letter did not come. Ethel felt a pang 
of disappointment as she left the post-office, but she 
knew it would arrive the next day, for his letters had 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 77 

been delayed before, but the next day it failed to appear, 
and the next, and so for a week. 

The suspense and worry was telling on her, for she 
became pale and listless. 

What could possibly be the matter? Was he sick, per- 
haps dying and she not know it? She knew she had 
not written anything in her last letter to make him 
angry, and his last letter had made her so happy, for 
in it he had said that he would come the tenth of May 
and stay with her a week. All winter she had looked 
forward to his coming; but for some reason he always 
postponed his coming from one month to the next. But 
now the day was set and how she longed for the six 
weeks to pass, so that she could see her loved one again. 

Yes, he must be ill; she could think of nothing else 
to keep him from writing. 

So she wrote him another letter, a sweet, true, loving 
letter, telling him that if he were sick and wanted her, 
she would brave his mother’s displeasure and come to 
him. 

She was happier after sending the letter, for she 
thought he surely would answer this, and if he was 
unable to write, he would get some one else to do it 
for him. 

But another week slowly dragged by, and still to the 
anxious heart no word came. 

So Ethel wrote again, and still no reply. She de- 
termined that she would not write again, and yet this 
suspense was killing her. She could not eat or sleep, 
and her laugh was very seldom heard. 

The ninth of May came, and a bright thought came to 
Ethel. Perhaps he had been ill, and was better now 
and would come to-morrow to surprise her. 

Oh, how anxiously she waited for morning to come, 


7 § 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


for if he did not come then, she knew he never would. 
Slowly the thought had forced itself on her mind, that 
he had been induced to give her up. 

The house the Wrights lived in was quite elevated, 
and Ethel could see the wharf where the New York 
boats landed from a window in her room. 

It was an all-night trip from New York to River- 
side, and the boat usually arrived about six o’clock in 
the morning. 

At five o’clock the next morning Ethel was up and 
dressed, sitting by the window, watching for the boat. 
It was a clear, warm morning, and the sun rising in 
splendor gave promise of a beautiful day. 

Ethel’s plan was to be at the wharf when the boat 
arrived. She had a fine view of the bay, and she could 
not fail to see the boat before it reached the wharf. 

Six o’clock came and still the boat failed to appear, 
but just as the hands of the clock pointed to a quarter 
past six a large white object came into view, around 
the bend. 

With a cry of joy, Ethel fastened on her hat and 
jacket, and softly hurried downstairs and out of the 
house. 

She arrived at the wharf just as the gang-plank was 
put out. There were very few passengers on board the 
boat, as it was so early in the season. Many an admir- 
ing glance was bestowed upon Ethel, as she stood with 
eager, expectant eyes, watching and waiting for her 
lover to appear. 

In a short time the last passenger left the boat; and 
with her hopes dashed to fragments and tears in her 
eyes, Ethel slowly walked home. 

Reaching her room she sobbed bitterly, but her 
mother’s voice calling her to breakfast soon recalled her 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


79 


to herself ; and bathing her eyes, she went down to 
breakfast, but she could not swallow a morsel, it seemed 
to choke her. 

After breakfast Russell went to the post-office, for the 
boat carried the New York mail. Ethel had found it 
s6 hard to conceal her disappointment, every time the 
postmaster told her there was no mail for her, from 
the eyes of inquisitive post-office loungers, that ishe 
finally sent Russell instead, but this morning Russell 
came back all out of breath. “Where’s sis?” he shouted 
as soon as he entered the door. “I’ve got a letter post- 
marked Ferris for her.” Russell knew that Ethel and 
Wilbur corresponded, and also that Ethel had not re- 
ceived a letter from him lately, so he rightly guessed 
that was the cause of the change in his sister. 

Dropping a plate and dish-towel simultaneously, Ethel 
eagerly snatched her letter and flew to her room, kiss- 
ing the envelope on the way. 

With eager haste she broke the seal and drew out the 
letter ; there were only a few lines, but they were a blow 
to Ethel. 

With a low moan she fell to the floor unconscious, 
but with the fatal letter still clutched in her hand. 


8o 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XIII. 


ANOTHER LIFE SACRIFICED ON THE ALTAR OF PRIDE. 

We will go back six weeks and find out the cause 
of Wilbur Gray’s cruel silence. Was he fickle? Had 
he forgotten the promise made beside the river so soon? 

No; for his heart is just as truly Ethel’s as it was the 
day he asked her to be his wife, and she did not miss 
him any more than he did her. Then why did he let 
the winter pass without seeing her? For surely he 
could not claim that business cares or lack of funds 
kept him in Ferris. 

It was fear of his mother that kept Wilbur from 
Ethel. From infancy he had loved his mother, and her 
slightest command was always willingly obeyed, but 
there were times when he feared her, for Mrs. Gray 
could be very venomous when vexed. 

So weeks lengthened into months, and still he had 
not found courage to tell her of his love for Ethel. He 
had tried to get away and go to Riverside several times, 
but his mother (as though guessing his purpose) always 
found some excuse to keep him in Ferris, and he dared 
not disobey her. But now spring had come, and as 
Wilbur strolled along the river where he had spent 
so many happy hours the summer before, his longings 
for Ethel were greater than ever, so he had decided that 
he would wait no longer, but would tell his mother the 
first opportunity he had that he was going to Riverside, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


81 


and his reason for going. Having come to this de- 
cision, he felt happier, and it was then he wrote to Ethel 
that he would be with her on the tenth of May. 

The next morning while at breakfast, the morning 
mail was brought in. There were three letters for Mrs. 
Gray and one for Wilbur, from Ethel. He sent his 
mother’s letters to her room (for Mrs. Gray never came 
down to breakfast, but always had it served in her 
room), and hastily finishing his breakfast, stepped out 
into the garden to enjoy his letter. After reading it 
through twice, the desire to clasp the writer in his arms 
became so great that he felt courageous enough to brave 
even his mother’s anger, to gain his heart’s desire. He 
was determined to tell her that morning, and the next 
day he would start for Riverside, for why should he 
wait until the tenth of May, when it was not necessary? 

When Wilbur entered the morning- room, about an 
hour later, he found his mother reading as he had ex- 
pected. She was dressed in a very becoming morning 
robe, and looked very young and stately. 

“Good morning, mother,” he said. “I hope you slept 
well last night.” 

“Good morning,” she answered. “Yes, I enjoyed a 
good night’s rest. I see you have been out in the garden 
taking advantage of this beautiful morning.” 

“Yes, mother, the morning is too fine to stay indoors. 
You ought to go out this morning; the air will do you 
good.” 

“I think I will,” Mrs. Gray answered, “that is, if you 
will drive the bays and take me. By the way, I had a 
letter from Mr. Thompson this morning; he is getting 
up a yachting party and urgently invites us to join 
him. Shall we accept?” 


8 2 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“You can, mother,” Wilbur said, eagerly; “it will do 
you good, but I don’t care to go.” 

“Do you suppose I would go without you? No, in- 
deed! But why don’t you want to go?” she asked in 
surprise. 

“Because I am going to Riverside to visit the 
Wrights,” he answered, bravely. 

“To visit that common Wright family that used to 
live here?” she asked, scornfully. 

“They are not common,” he answered, indignantly, 
“they may be poor but that does not make them com- 
mon, and you cannot find a more refined girl in society 
that Ethel Wright.” 

“Wilbur!” Mrs. Gray said, with suppressed anger, 
“what is that Ethel Wright to you?” 

“She is the girl I love with all my heart,” Wilbur 
answered, more bravely than he felt. 

“The girl you love. Nonsense!” She said with a 
sneering laugh, “but tell me, do you mean to ask that 
designing creature to become your wife?” 

“Mother,” said Wilbur with some spirit, “she is not a 
‘designing creature,’ but one of the purest, truest girls 
living, and my betrothed wife.” 

Had a bomb exploded at her feet Mrs. Gray could 
not have been more startled. 

“What!” she fairly shrieked, “you have been fool 
enough to ask that low, vulgar, drunkard’s daughter to 
be your wife? Are you insane?” 

“I never was more sane in my life, and when you 
know Ethel you will love her, for she ” 

“I don’t want to know her,” Mrs. Gray interrupted. 
“Wilbur, have you forgotten your promise to your dying 
father?” 

“No, mother, and you know I have always tried to 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


83 


keep it, and intend to keep it now; for although I marry 
I will not forsake you. You know you have often said 
that this house was too large for you to manage with 
comfort, so when I bring Ethel here you can spend 
the rest of your life in comfort and ease, and Ethel 
will manage the household.” 

“Wilbur,” Mrs. Gray said, in the tone he dreaded 
most, “this house may be large, but it isn’t large enough 
to hold that Wright girl and me. You will have to 
choose between us.” 

“Mother, you are cruel,” he cried in pain. 

“I am sorry if you think so,” she answered, indiffer- 
ently, “but that does not alter matters; you will have to 
choose, and choose now.” 

“Then I choose my affianced,” Wilbur replied, de- 
fiantly. 

“Very well, I will leave at once,” Mrs. Gray coldly 
replied, but suddenly she broke down and sobbed pas- 
sionately. 

His mother’s sobs pierced him like knife thrusts. 
“Mother!” he said, putting his arm around her, “don’t 
cry, it hurts me.” 

“How can my tears hurt you, when you care so little 
for me that you will turn me out of your home in my 
old age? Oh, if only your father were living. What 
would he say if he could see the way in which his son 
was breaking his promises ! How I wish I was lying 
beside him in his grave, for what have I to live? Hus- 
band gone, daughter gone, and now my son. Think 
again, my boy, before you cast your mother off for a 
stranger.” 

“Oh! what shall I do,” he cried in agony. “It will 
break my heart to part with either you or Ethel. Was 
ever a fellow in so cruel a position?” 


8 4 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


"Wilbur, give up the girl. She no doubt is only after 
your money, and I will willingly spend half of my for- 
tune to free you from her if necessary.” 

“Mother, she is not that kind of a girl. You need 
not fear that she would sue for ‘breach of promise’ if 
I broke the engagement.” 

“Then it is so much easier,” Mrs. Gray said, eagerly. 
“I need you more than she does; and I, your mother, 
have the first claim. Give her up ; don’t disgrace me 
by a low marriage. See, my son, I beg of you on my 
knees,” she cried, dropping on her knees at his feet. 

“Don’t kneel to me, mother,” he cried, raising her 
to her feet, and then his face grew white with pain as 
he said: “Mother, I will keep the promise I made to 
father. I — will — give — up — Ethel.” 

“How can I thank you?” she began in her victory. 

“Don’t thank me. I can’t bear it,” Wilbur answered 
as he staggered from the room. 

Going to the stable he quickly saddled his spirited 
hunter, and, springing into the saddle, dashed madly 
off. His brain seemed on fire, and he felt as if noth- 
ing but a brisk gallop would cool it. He wanted to 
flee to some lonely place, where he could be alone with 
his misery. 

On, on he urged his horse, and the animal growing 
more nervous and excited every moment seemed to fly 
over the ground. 

But still his master was not satisfied, and suddenly 
he jabbed his heels into the horse’s flanks. The animal 
sprang to one side, stumbled, and the next moment man 
and beast lay in a confused heap in the road. Then 
the horse regained his feet, and dashed wildly on. 

It was a half hour later that Wilbur was found, cov- 
ered with blood and dust. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


85 


For days he lay unconscious, hovering between life 
and death, and at last one day, just as the sun was 
setting, he closed his eyes, never to open them again 
on this world. Thus another noble life was sacrificed 
on the altar of pride. 

Mrs. Gray’s grief was terrible to witness. It was in 
vain that kind friends tried to console her. 

“No! no, don’t pity me. I don’t deserve it, for I killed 
him,” she would moan, and her friends would leave her, 
fearing that her sudden bereavement had turned her 
mind. 

Oh, how gladly she would give him to Ethel now, if 
only he was hers to give. Still a fierce resentment 
against the innocent cause of Wilbur’s death filled her 
heart. “If that Wright girl had not crossed his path 
and got him under her influence Wilbur would be alive 
to-day,” she would say to herself. 

The ordeal of the funeral was too much for her, and 
she was carried fainting from the room. Long watch- 
ing over Wilbur had worn her out, and it was three 
weeks before she was able to leave her bed. In the 
meantime a large pile of letters had accumulated, among 
which were Ethel’s two letters to Wilbur. 

One bright morning in May Mrs. Gray called for her 
mail, saying she felt able to look over some of it. 

They were mostly letters of consolation and sym- 
pathy. Finally she discovered Ethel’s letters to Wil- 
bur, and a fierce gleam came into her eyes as she broke 
the seal of the first one, but as she read, her counte- 
nance changed, and after finishing the second one all 
resentment left her. They were true, womanly letters, 
and even Mrs. Gray’s heart was touched by the anxiety 
and pleading contained in the two. She also realized 


86 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


that Ethel loved Wilbur for himself, and not for his 
wealth and position. 

“My punishment is greater than I can bear,” she 
groaned. “But for my foolish pride, I would be blessed 
with two children instead of being left alone.” 

She called for her writing materials and wrote a brief 
note to Ethel; she was too weak to write much, but felt 
in duty bound to inform Ethel of Wilbur’s death* so 
she simply wrote: 

“My Dear Miss Wright: 

“It is with sorrow and sympathy that I inform you 
of the death of my son Wilbur. He was buried the 
twelfth of April. Owing to illness I was unable to in- 
form you sooner. 

“Respectfully yours, 

“Lucy B. Gray.” 

This was the letter that struck Ethel so cruel a blow. 
Mrs. Gray’s and Wilbur’s handwriting were very much 
alike, and Ethel in her haste had not noticed the dif- 
ference; taking it for granted that the letter came from 
Wilbur, until she read the contents. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


87 


CHAPTER XIV. 


• “as thy days so shall thy strength be.” 

When Ethel slowly opened her eyes, she was lying 
in bed and her mother and Russell were bending 
anxiously over her. 

“What has happened?” she asked, vainly trying to 
account for lying in bed all dressed. 

“You fainted, dear, but thank God you are better 
now,” Mrs. Wright answered with emotion. 

“I fainted,” Ethel said in surprise, then suddenly her 
memory returned. With a heartrending cry of anguish 
she buried her face in the pillows and sobbed passion- 
ately. 

Mrs. Wright knew that some terrible grief had come 
to her darling, for she had never fainted before. What 
it was she did not know, for upon hearing Ethel fall, 
she had hurried upstairs, followed by Russell, and in 
her anxiety to restore her to consciousness, she had 
not had time to read the letter still clutched in Ethel’s 
hand. It was a death-like faint, and after working over 
her for some time without any result, Mrs. Wright was 
about to send for the doctor when Ethel opened her 
eyes, as we read in the opening of this chapter. 

“Sister! Don’t cry,” Russell entreatingly said, on 
the verge of tears himself, as he saw the anguish that 
shook the slender frame of his sister. 

“Hush! Russell, let her cry; it will do her more 


88 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


good than any medicine a doctor could give her,” Mrs. 
Wright said, as she sat down on the side of the bed 
and gently took her weeping daughter in her arms. 

“Russell, it is getting late. You will have to hurry 
or you will be late to school,” Mrs. Wright said, looking 
up at the clock. 

“Don’t you think I had better stay home this morn- 
ing, mamma? Sister might get worse, and you won’t 
have any one to send for a doctor.” 

“No, dear, it is not necessary for you to stay home,” 
Mrs. Wright answered. “See! Sister is growing 
calmer.” 

“All right,” he answered, as he kissed his mother and 
sister and hurried off. 

Mrs. Wright waited until Ethel became quite calm 
before she gently inquired: 

“Darling, tell mamma what the trouble is. Perhaps 
I can help you.” 

“Oh! Haven’t you read this letter?” Ethel asked, as 
she handed it to her mother. 

It was Mrs. Wright’s turn to be surprised now, and 
tears came into her eyes as she read, for she had loved 
Wilbur for his noble, manly character. 

“My poor darling,” she said, tenderly kissing Ethel. 
“This is indeed a cruel blow for you.” 

“Mamma, I can scarcely believe that my own, true 
Wilbur is really dead, and I shall never see him again,” 
Ethel exclaimed, sobbing afresh. 

“Don’t say that you will never see him again, 
daughter. Thank God that Wilbur was a Christian and 
you will meet him in Heaven.” 

“Mamma, if there is a God in Heaven, why does he 
let us suffer so? I am sure we do our best to serve 
him, and yet, see how we are afflicted. Papa has made 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


89 


you unhappy ever since you were married, and now it 
seems as if my life is to be a sorrowful one, too. Why 
do we have to suffer so, and other people have nothing 
but happiness ?” 

“Ethel, dear, God knows best. With every sorrow 
there is a blessing, but we don’t always see it,” Mrs. 
Wright reverently said. “I know this is an awful 
trial for you, but it may be better to bear this now 
than to bear a worse one later. Would it not have been 
harder to have Wilbur give you up and marry some 
one else, than to know he died loving you?” 

“Oh, yes! It is hard to give him up this way; but 
to lose him and have him living would have been worse,” 
Ethel sadly answered. 

“Perhaps God saw that Mrs. Gray would never have 
consented to your marriage, and she may have made 
trouble for you both, so God, in His mercy, took Wil- 
bur home,” Mrs. Wright said, not fully realizing how 
true her words were. 

“Then why didn’t He take me, too?” Ethel sobbed. 

“Because your work is not finished on earth, and 
what would I do without you? for if it were not for 
my two children my life would be dark indeed, so you 
see, daughter,” Mrs. Wright said, with tears in her 
eyes, “you will have to live for mother.” 

“Forgive me, mamma; I fear this grief is making me 
selfish. I wonder what Wilbur died of ; Mrs. Gray 
did not say. If only some one had written and told me 
that he was ill, I would have gone to him at once. It 
would have been much easier to bear if I could have 
been with him and spoken to him before he died. But 
Violet has been in New York the last two months, and 
there was no one else to tell me.” 


90 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“I feel sorry for Mrs. Gray, left all alone in her old 
age. She must be heartbroken.” 

“Yes, I suppose so, for Wilbur said that she wor- 
shipped him. I will write and tell her how much I sym- 
pathize with her,” Ethel said, kindly. “Oh! mamma,” 
she burst out, “this sorrow is more than I can bear. 
If I were Wilbur’s wife or acknowledged betrothed, all 
my dear friends would try to comfort me, but now I will 
have to suffer in silence, and appear as happy as ever, 
while my heart is breaking. Was ever a girl in so 
cruel a position?” 

“I know it is hard, dear daughter,” Mrs. Wright said, 
kissing her fondly, “but there is One who will help you 
bear it, One who has said, ‘As thy days, so shall thy 
strength be.’ Ethel, do you know there are times when 
I thank God for taking my little Harry to Heaven?” 

“Mamma! How can you say that?” she exclaimed, 
in surprise. “Why I thought you were nearly heart- 
broken when he died!” 

“I was, dear, but I relied on our Saviour for strength, 
and he gave it to me; not only that, but He gradually 
opened my eyes to His reason for taking him. Ethel, 
do you remember your little brother?” 

“Yes, I remember him as a lively, merry little fellow.” 

“Yes, he was, but he also was very stubborn and 
quick-tempered at times, like your father. Indeed, in 
almost every motion of his I could see a likeness of your 
father, and my heart was often filled with fear that he 
would follow in his steps when he grew up. So God, in 
his loving mercy, took him while he was yet innocent, 
and before he had a chance to drift away. Now, daugh- 
ter, don’t you think I have cause to be thankful that 
God is keeping my little one until He calls me to join 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


9 \ 

him, instead of letting him live and perhaps be eternally 
lost?” 

“Yes, mamma; I never thought of that before, and I 
suppose he has some good reason for taking Wilbur, 
which I may know some day. Mamma,” she con- 
tinued, bravely, but with quivering lips, “I will try to 
bear this bravely, and with God’s help I shall succeed.” 

“Thank you, my brave girl. Now you lie still and 
rest awhile, I have to go downstairs and do my work. 
If any of your scholars come to-day, I will tell them 
you are not feeling well.” 

Ethel stayed in her room all that day, but the next 
morning she came down to breakfast, dressed for busi- 
ness as usual. Her face was very pale, and her eyes 
looked sad and wistful, but otherwise she showed no 
signs of her wounded heart. 

“Ethel, you surely are not able to teach to-day?” Mrs. 
Wright inquired. 

“Yes, I think I can,” and she added softly, so that 
her mother alone heard her, “work will do me more 
good than sitting home grieving. I want something to 
fill my mind, so that I will not have time to think.” 

Mrs. Wright smiled encouragement, while her heart 
swelled with pride as she looked at her brave daughter. 
There was also something in her calm, steady voice 
that seemed to tell her of the hours spent in prayer, 
and the comfort received. 

“You don’t look well, Ethel; better stay home and 
rest to-day,” Mr. Wright said, much to Ethel’s sur- 
prise, for he usually grumbled if she was ill a day and 
could not teach. 

Russell had told his father of Wilbur Gray’s death, 
and how Ethel had fainted when she received the let- 
ter. Now there was still a tender spot left in his heart, 


92 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


but he usually covered it up so that no one would guess 
it was there. He had looked with pleasure on the friend- 
ship of Ethel and Wilbur, and often wondered if it 
would ripen into love ; and so, when he heard how 
Ethel had fainted, he knew that Wilbur was more than 
a friend to her. He now regretted the months he had 
separated them, for he had not really bettered himself 
by leaving Ferris. 

Ethel taught all that day, and although some of her 
scholars remarked about her pale face and sorrowful 
looking eyes, not one really thought of half the pain she 
endured. 

Oh, how long and dark the way seemed; she could 
see no light ahead. There was only one reason why she 
cared to live, and that was to work and help her mother 
and brother. Mr. Wright wanted Russell to leave school 
and go to work, but Ethel begged her father to let him 
graduate, promising to pay his board at home and school 
expenses, so Mr. Wright let him stay, for he really did 
not care whether he went to school or work, so long as 
he had the money. 

After a week had passed Ethel never murmured or 
spoke of her bereavement, but her merry laugh was 
seldom heard, and there was a wistful look in her beau- 
tiful eyes that told of hidden sorrow. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


93 


CHAPTER XV. 


AN EXCITING MORNING. 

The roar of cannons, report of revolvers and fire 
works proclaimed the dawn of another glorious Fourth 
of July. The noise had awakened Ethel at intervals 
during the night, and consequently she had a slight head- 
ache when she came down to breakfast. As it was a 
holiday she did not have to teach, and was filled with 
pleasure at the prospect of having a whole day to her- 
self. She helped her mother do the housework, and 
about ten o’clock everything looked as neat and clean 
as two pair of hands could make it. 

“Ethel, why don’t you go down to the beach? The 
fresh air will make your head feel better,” Mrs. Wright 
said. 

“If you are sure there is nothing more I can do to 
help you, I will go, but I don’t want you to work all 
day, because you need a holiday as well as the rest of 
us.” 

“You are very kind and thoughtful, daughter, but 
everything is done, so put on your hat and take a walk,” 
Mrs. Wright answered. 

Mrs. Wright stood in the doorway and watched her 
daughter as she tripped lightly along on her way to 
the beach. She looked very sweet this morning, Mrs. 
Wright thought, in her white shirt-waist suit, and white 
leghorn hat, trimmed with pale pink roses. 


94 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


On every side could be heard the noises and sputter- 
ing of fire-crackers, and now and then the thunder of 
a cannon, but Ethel did not mind any of these. The 
beauty of the morning and the light, cooling breezes 
that came from the river soon drove away all thoughts 
of her headache, and by the time she reached her favor- 
ite spot on the beach her heart was lighter, and the 
world seemed brighter than it had for over a year. Yes, 
a little more than a year had passed since that awful 
day when Ethel’s hopes of happiness were blasted by the 
death of her lover. Does she still think of him? you 
ask. Ah ! Ethel is not the kind of girl that would for- 
get one she loved so soon, but the terrible grief and 
anguish had passed, and she could think and speak of 
him now without the awful aching void in her heart. 
Gradually she had regained her cheerful spirits and 
healthy color, and there was only the look in her eyes 
of deep sorrow, bravely conquered, that told of the 
suffering she had silently borne. 

She sat inhaling the invigorating breezes, and think- 
ing of the bright summer of two years ago, unconscious 
of what was going on around her. Suddenly her atten- 
tion was attracted by a little group of children coming 
along the beach, throwing lighted fire-crackers right 
and left, and shouting with glee when one happened to 
make more noise than the other. She watched them, 
and a smile came to her lips as their merry voices came 
to her ears, but in an instant the smile was frozen in 
horror on her face, as one of the boys lighted a giant 
cracker; for just then the door of a handsome cottage 
on the shore front opened and a little girl ran down 
the steps and across the beach. She did not see the fire- 
cracker or hear the warning cry of the children as she 
made straight for the spot of danger; for her little 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


95 

mind was full of glee at having escaped the ever watch- 
ful eyes of her nurse and “run’d ’way.” 

She had almost reached the sputtering demon when 
she suddenly saw it. She stopped, too frightened to 
move, when with a roar it burst, and a piece of the 
burning fragments flew through the air and landed on 
the ruffle of her dainty dress, setting it on fire. 

It had all happened so quickly that, although Ethel 
had started toward the child as soon as she saw her 
leave the steps, her clothing was all in flames when she 
reached her. Poor, little tot; her shrieks were pitiful 
as the flames burned her flesh. With eager haste Ethel 
rolled her in the sand and tore off the burning cloth- 
ing. In the meantime the other children looked on, 
speechless with fright. Ethel soon succeeded in tear- 
ing off the burning clothing, unmindful of the fact 
that she was burning her own hands terribly. 

Carrying the moaning child tenderly in her arms, she 
hastily rang the bell of the Graham cottage. The door 
was soon opened by a maid, and she gave a cry of hor- 
ror as her eyes rested on the poor, little, quivering, 
moaning object in Ethel’s arms. 

“Where is this child’s mother? Take me to her 
quickly,” Ethel said, authoritatively, seeing that the 
maid was too horrified to move. 

Just then a gentleman stepped into the hall, evidently 
in quest of his hat, but stopped short at the tableau be- 
fore him. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he kindly 
asked, coming forward, and not recognizing his little 
niece and favorite, in the feebly moaning child the 
stranger carried. 

“Is this your little girl?” Ethel asked, raising her eyes 
that were swimming in tears to his face, but the child 


96 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


had heard his voice, and, reaching out her little burned 
hand, feebly said “Uncle Dick.” 

“Heavens! Can this be Florence?” he cried, while 
the pallor of death spread over his face. “I thought she 
was upstairs in the nursery. Where did you find her? 
Tell me quick, what has happened to our darling!” 

Ethel explained the accident as briefly as possible. 
She did not tell him of the burns she received while 
putting out the flames that threatened the life of his 
little niece, although the pain was becoming more in- 
tense every moment. 

“Pardon me for keeping you standing here all this 
time, but the shock was so unexpected that I am com- 
pletely upset,” he apologized, trying to become calm, 
“and Florence is quite heavy also. Let me carry her!” 

He very gently tried to take her in his arms, but 
Florence shrieked with pain at his slightest touch and 
clung to Ethel. 

“I think you had better not try to take her,” Ethel 
exclaimed, trying to soothe the little sufferer. “If you 
will lead the way to her mother I will carry her.” 

“But her mother is not home. She went driving with 
my mother this morning, leaving Florence in the care 
of nurse and me,” he cried in distress. “Oh, what shall 
I do! and what will my sister say when she hears of 
this? I am afraid it will kill her.” 

Poor man. He looked so dazed and helpless Ethel 
could not help pitying him. 

“Every minute we stay here is valuable time lost. If 
you will lead the way to her bedroom, and then call 
her nurse I will see what we can do for her,” she said 
kindly, “and you telephone for a doctor at once,” she 
commanded the maid, who still stood in the hall, evi- 
dently too frightened to move. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


97 


“Yes, ma’am!” she exclaimed, rushing into the library 
and the next minute they heard her frantically ringing 
up Central. 

“This way, Miss ” 

“Wright.” 

“Thank you ! My name is Richard Graham,” he 
answered, leading her upstairs to a room all furnished 
in white. “This is Florence’s room. I will see if her 
nurse, Miss Allen, is in her room.” 

Just then Miss Allen, a middle-aged woman, came 
hurriedly into the room. She was suffering with a sick 
headache, and had left her little charge playing safely, 
as she thought, in the nursery, while she went to her 
room to bathe her throbbing brow. Not getting any 
relief, she decided to lie down on her bed for about 
ten minutes, thinking that Florence would play with her 
dolls and not miss her, but when she returned to the 
nursery Florence was not there, and in alarm she hast- 
ened to her room, just as Richard Graham started to 
search for her. 

“What has happened?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, 
wringing her hands in anguish as she bent over the 
child, who was unconscious. 

Mr. Graham did not reproach her for negligence, for 
how could he reproach her, when she was crushed with 
sorrow and remorse, so he told her what he knew of 
the accident, as kindly as possible. 

“Mr. Graham, the doctor will be here at once,” the 
maid announced, coming into the room, but the words 
had hardly left her lips, when hurried steps were heard 
on the stairs and the next instant the doctor entered the 
room. 

If Ethel thought she could leave when the doctor 
came, she soon found it would be impossible, for with- 


98 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


out her the doctor would not have known what to do, 
for Richard Graham, the nurse and servants seemed to 
have lost their senses, and were hurrying helplessly 
about, trying to do something, but not knowing what. 

And so Ethel, hiding her burned hands as much as 
possible, took command. She soon managed to quiet 
them, and secure the various articles the doctor called 
for, and then, at the doctor’s bidding, she kindly re- 
quested them all to leave the room, except Richard 
Graham. Ethel’s quiet, steady manner gave him cour- 
age, and he soon proved to be quite a help. The doc- 
tor was so busy dressing the burns of Florence that 
he did not notice the burns on Ethel’s hands, and al- 
though the pain made her feel faint and dizzy at times, 
she never murmured, but stayed bravely at her post. 

Just as the doctor finished bandaging his patient and 
had restored her to consciousness, they heard a carriage 
stop before the door, and the merry laughter of Mrs. 
Deane the mother of Florence, and Richard Graham’s 
sister, came to their ears as she stepped upon the veranda. 

Richard Graham covered his face and groaned aloud 
as he heard the merry voice that would soon be turned 
to sorrow. 

Stepping into the hall Mrs. Deane called lovingly: 
“Florence ! Florence ! Come see what mamma has 
brought you, dear.” 

“Oh! who will tell her? I cannot, it would kill her 
if I were to tell her in my blunt way. 

“Miss Wright, you would know how to deal with a 
woman better than doctor or I. Will you please go 
down and tell my sister?” Richard Graham cried, be- 
seechingly. 

Ethel shrank from the task, especially as she was a 
stranger to Mrs. Deane and Mrs. Graham, Richard’s 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


99 


mother. But one look at his face told her that he could 
not break the sad news, and all the servants had hast- 
ened into the kitchen, none daring to tell the mother. 

“Are you hiding from mother?” Mrs. Deane called 
again, laughing. 

Richard looked at Ethel with mute appeal in his eyes, 
and without a word she turned and went down to per- 
form her unpleasant task. 


100 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XVI. 


NEW FRIENDS. 

Ethel was half way down the stairs before Mrs. Deane 
saw or heard her, and then she gazed in astonishment, 
wondering what this stranger was doing upstairs in 
her home. 

“Mrs. Deane, I presume ?” Ethel said, trying to speak 
lightly and coming down to the foot of the stairs; “my 
name is Ethel Wright.” 

“Do you wish to see me?” Mrs. Deane inquired, with 
just a tinge of hauteur in her manner. 

“Yes, I do,” Ethel answered, gently. “Mrs. Deane, 
you are no doubt surprised to find a stranger in your 
home, but I can explain my presence here in a few 
words. Mr. Graham requested me to tell you some 
bad news. Mrs. Deane, will you try to bear some bad 
news bravely?” 

“Some bad news,” Mrs. Deane repeated, turning pale. 
“Tell me quick, what is it? Florence! Is it about my 
little girl? Oh, I can see by your face that it is, and 
that is why she did not come to the door to meet me 
as usual. What has happened? Tell me ere this sus- 
pense kills me!” and Mrs. Deane sank trembling on 
a chair. Just then Mrs. Graham entered the hall, and 
stopped speechless with surprise at seeing her daughter- 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


IOI 


who had left her radiant with happiness, now pale and 
trembling, and a stranger bending over her. 

“Oh ! mother, something terrible has happened to our 
little Florence.” 

“Mrs. Deane, please do not distress yourself so. 
There has been an accident, but your little girl is rest- 
ing quite easy now, and with good care will soon re- 
cover,” Ethel hastened to explain, putting her arm about 
Mrs. Graham, who would have fallen without her sup- 
port. 

“Where is she? I must go to her at once,” Mrs. 
Deane cried, springing to her feet. 

“Mrs. Deane, you cannot see her until you are calm,” 
Ethel answered firmly, “for you must not excite Flor- 
ence.” 

“Yes, daughter, we must control our feeling, for if 
Florence is hurt very badly, it certainly will not do her 
any good if we excite her,” Mrs. Graham said, recover- 
ing her self-possession. “Will you kindly explain 
just what the accident was?” she inquired, putting her 
hand on Ethel’s shoulder. 

Ethel told them, making as light of the matter as 
she conscientiously could, so as not to terrify her hearers. 

“How can I ever repay you for saving my darling 
from so terrible a death?” Mrs. Deane cried. “Now, 
please do not keep me from her any longer. See, I am 
calm ! Let me go to her now.” 

“Yes, you may both see her now, but please try to 
be cheerful in her presence,” Ethel said, kindly. 

The three women hastened upstairs, but were met at 
the door of the sick room by the doctor, who whispered : 

“Do not make any noise, for I have just succeeded in 
getting her asleep.” 

Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Deane sobbed inaudibly as 


102 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


they looked at their darling. The flames had not burned 
her face, but her arms and legs were burned quite 
severely. 

“There does not seem to be anything more for me to 
do here, so I will go home. I suppose my mother is 
wondering what has become of me,” Ethel said to Rich- 
ard Graham, who was standing beside her. Her hands 
were so painful she was sure she could not keep back 
the tears much longer, and so she was anxious to get 
home and have her mother put something soothing on 
them. 

“Miss Wright, I cannot find words to express my 
gratitude now, but I hope to see you very soon again, 
and then perhaps I can give you some idea of my 
thankfulness and appreciation of the service you have 
rendered us,” he answered, reaching out his hand. 

Ethel laid her hand in his, but a cry of pain escaped 
from her lips when he pressed it. 

“Miss Wright, you have been burned also,” he cried, 
horrified, as he gazed at her swollen and blistered hands. 

“It is nothing,” she answered, “they will soon heal.” 

“I have been a brute! How you must have suffered 
while you were helping us, and you never murmured,” 
he explained, in pain and admiration. “Even now you 
are suffering. Miss Wright, you are the bravest girl 
I have ever met. Come, let the doctor attend to your 
burns.” 

“It is not much,” she answered, bravely, “I think I 
had better go home, my mother will know what to do 
for them.” 

But he would not hear of it, and called the doctor to 
dress her wounds. 

“I am sorry I did not notice this before, Miss Wright,” 
the doctor said as he examined her burn?. “You cer- 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


103 


tainly deserve credit, for I would not have known what 
to do without your assistance here. Still I do not see 
how you could stand the pain these wounds must cause 
you, without flinching.” 

The doctor soon had her hands bandaged, but when 
she spoke of going home Mrs. Deane would not hear 
of it. 

“Miss Wright, you must stay and have lunch with 
us,” she said, putting her arm about Ethel’s waist. “I 
cannot let you go so soon, we need you to keep our 
spirits up. It almost makes my heart stop beating when 
I think of what would have happened but for your brave 
rescue of my darling. I am very sorry that you burned 
your hands so badly, and I want you to consider me 
your true friend and let me do anything I can for you. 
I know that I can never, never repay you for saving the 
life of my baby, and words seem too weak to express 
my gratitude.” 

“Please do not thank me or speak of repaying me. I 
only did my duty. I thank you for your kind invitation, 
but I really must go home, because my mother is no doubt 
anxiously waiting for me.” 

“If that is the only reason why you cannot stay, we 
can soon remedy that. Suppose you write a note to 
your mother and we will send it to her,” Mrs. Graham 
said. 

“I cannot write,” Ethel answered, holding up her 
bandaged hands. 

“Then you dictate and let me write for you,” Richard 
rejoined. “You see we are bound to keep you,” he 
added, smiling. 

And so a note was sent to Mrs. Wright, and Ethel 
stayed to lunch with her new friends. As they entered 
the dining-room and sat down to the table laden with 


104 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


cut glass, silver and tempting food, Ethel looked up in 
dismay. 

Mrs. Graham noted the look on her face and gently 
inquired if her burns were very painful. 

“No, thank you, they do not pain me very much 
now, but I did not realize until this minute that I can- 
not cut up my food,” Ethel responded, as a flush of em- 
barrassment spread over her face. 

“Kindly permit me to loan you the use of my hands, 
then,” Richard Graham exclaimed, proceeding to cut up 
the food upon her plate. “If that is not cut fine enough, 
let me know,” he said, passing it back to her. “By the 
way, can you feed yourself?” 

“Oh, yes, I think I can manage to hold a fork,” Ethel 
answered, laughing at her predicament. 

They did not linger long over the meal, for their 
anxiety for Florence had taken away their appetites, and 
they were anxious to get back to her. The doctor had 
telegraphed to the city for a trained nurse. In the mean- 
time Miss Allen was left in charge. 

Mr. Deane had been called to the city on business; but 
was expected home before night, traveling in his large 
automobile, because he had promised to bring Florence 
a large box of fireworks. 

Mrs. Graham has been a widow for five years. In 
winter she lives with her daughter in Mr. Deane’s hand- 
some Fifth avenue home, and every summer the Deanes 
come to the Graham cottage in Riverside. 

Richard Graham, called Dick by his friends, is a very 
prominent lawyer. His father had left him a large for- 
tune, but as he wished to follow a profession he chose 
the Bar, graduating from Yale. He is about thirty 
years old, tall and well proportioned, and every way pre- 
possessing in appearance. One had to look at his face 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


io5 

but once to see that he was a man to be trusted. In 
his profession he was a boon to the poor, for he worked 
just as hard on a case for a poor man, often not charg- 
ing any fee, as for the millionaire. He had just come 
off victor in a very trying case, and never had a vaca- 
tion been so much needed and well earned, as the one 
he was now enjoying. 

It was five o’clock ere Ethel started for home. Rich- 
ard insisted upon taking her home in his automobile. 
She was very quiet as they sped over the ground, for she 
was in constant fear of meeting her father intoxicated, 
as he usually was on a holiday. 


io 6 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XVII. 


RICHARD GRAHAM UNEXPECTEDLY MEETS MR. WRIGHT. 

It was about eleven o’clock that night when the door 
of a saloon opened and a man was thrust roughly out, 
and then the door was slammed shut amid the laughter 
of the crowd within. The man stood a moment, shak- 
ing his fist at the closed door and calling down curses 
upon the head of the saloon keeper and then threaten- 
ing, grumbling and swearing, he staggered home. It 
was Mr. Wright. All day he had spent in that saloon, 
drinking heavily, and now intoxicated and money all 
gone, the saloon keeper had no more use for him, and so 
he put him out. Would he resent his treatment and not 
enter that saloon again? No! Saturday night will find 
him there again, and the saloon keeper as smiling and 
polite as if he was his best friend, that is, as long as 
Mr. Wright has money; when that is gone, the smile 
vanishes also. 

Staggering along, now bumping into a fence, and 
then almost falling over the curb-stone into the gutter, 
Mr. Wright came to a bakery. 

“Guess I will get the kid — hie — some cream puffs ; that 
will jolly the old woman along,” he muttered. 

Entering the store, and bumping against the counter 
he asked for a dozen cream puffs, saying he would pay 
for them Saturday. The baker gave them to him, know- 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


107 

ing that if Mr. Wright did not pay for them his wife 
would. 

With the bag of cream puffs held firmly in one hand, 
he continued his homeward journey. The streets were 
quiet and almost deserted, for the people had displayed 
their fireworks earlier in the evening. 

He had got within sight of his home, when he stepped 
too near the edge of the sidewalk; his feet slipped from 
under him and with a thump he was suddenly seated on 
the ground. When he felt himself going down he 
dropped his bag of cream puffs, and consequently he 
landed upon them. 

Looking all around him he said : “Wonder what the 
devil — hie — became of them cream puffs?” 

“Hello, what’s the trouble here?” a cheerful voice in- 
quired, as the owner of it, Richard Graham, came up 
to him and helped the intoxicated man to his feet. 

“Nothing the matter, boss — hie — just resting a minute. 
A long walk to my house.” 

“Where do you live?” Richard asked, seeing that the 
man could scarcely walk alone. 

“Where that light is shining in that — hie — window,” 
he answered, pointing to it. 

“That house!” Richard said, incredibly, “why the 
Wrights live there.” Then a sudden thought came to 
him. “Are you Mr. Wright?” he inquired. 

“Sure nuff — hie — and I am a gentleman. Come, let 
me introduce you to my old woman — hie — and the kids; 
finest family in town,” he added, linking his arm within 
Richard’s. 

Richard Graham led him home, but declined to enter 
the house at that hour. 

Did he look down upon Ethel for being the daughter 
of a drunkard? No, his heart was filled with pity for 


io8 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


her. During their short acquaintance he recognized 
how gentle, refined and proud she was, and he realized 
the pain and humility her father must cause her. 

As Mr. Wright entered the house he ran into a chair, 
and with a crash it fell to the floor. 

Staggering up the stairs and to Russell’s room, he 
called loudly: 

“Hey, kid, git up and git the cream puffs — hie — I 
brought you.” 

“Where are they?” Russell inquired, sleepily. 

“Up the street — hie — aways.” 

But Russell was too sleepy to get up at that hour 
and hunt for cream puffs. 

For almost two hours Mr. Wright staggered from 
room to room, upstairs and then downstairs, cursing 
and threatening one minute and then praising his family 
the next. 

Ethel spent a sleepless night, and looked pale and 
tired the next morning. Mrs. Wright had to dress her 
and comb her hair, for Ethel could not use her hands, 
but she insisted on teaching as usual, because she could 
not afford to be idle. 

She was in the midst of her second lesson when Rich- 
ard Graham called, bringing a basket of fruit and 
flowers. 

“Here is a slight remembrance from my sister,” he 
said, setting the basket upon a table. “We are all 
anxious to know how you feel this morning.” 

“I feel quite well,” she answered, evasively. “Please 
tell Mrs. Deane that I thank her for this beautiful gift.” 

“You don’t look very well,” he said, gently, looking 
at her pale face. 

“I spent a sleepless night, and that accounts for my 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


109 

pallor,” she answered, trying to smile. “How is dear 
little Florence?” 

“She cried with pain almost all night, but she seems 
easier now, and has asked several times, Tor the pretty 
lady that put the fire out/ ” 

“I am glad to hear that she is easier now, and I will 
call to see her this afternoon. I have a music lesson to 
give to the little girl that lives in the cottage next to 
you, and I can stop in when I go by.” 

“Do you teach music?” Richard asked in surprise. 

“Oh, yes, I give lessons on the piano,” Ethel answered 
with pride. 

“Then perhaps I am detaining you now?” 

Ethel reluctantly admitted that she had a scholar in 
the parlor. 

“I don’t see how you can teach with your sore hands,” 
he said, looking at her tenderly. 

“Well, I can manage to teach, because I do not have 
to use them, although I admit that the pain makes me 
feverish at times.” 

He did not ask her why she did not give up teaching 
until her hands were healed, for he rightly guessed that 
Ethel was compelled to work; his encounter with her 
father proved that. Not for worlds would he tell her 
that he had helped her father home last night; the look 
of pain on her sweet face this morning made him feel 
as though he would enjoy horsewhipping her father to 
teach him to make a man of himself, and a father that 
Ethel could be proud of. 

Ethel called to see Florence as she had promised. She 
succeeded in bringing a smile to the little sufferer’s lips 
by telling her a comical story. 

In the days that followed Ethel found time to see 
Florence every day, and Florence was never happier than 


no 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


when “Auntie Ethel,” as she insisted upon calling her, 
was with her. 

A great friendship had sprung up between Mrs. Deane 
and Ethel. Mrs. Deane was twenty-four years of age 
but looked younger; she was short, and plump, and very 
jolly; she was also very wealthy and a leader in society, 
but that did not make her look down upon a poor 
man or woman, providing they were worthy of respect. 

Mrs. Graham also learned to love the sweet, young 
lady that came daily to cheer little Florence. Her pres- 
ence seemed to fill the house with sunshine, for Ethel 
never let any heartache show on her face. 

There is still another who watches for her coming, 
and that is Richard Graham. To him she is as pure as 
an angel. He loves her with a true, strong love, and 
every thought is filled with dreams of the future, in 
which Ethel plays a prominent part. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


hi 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“i NEVER HEARD OF HIS ENGAGEMENT.’’ 

The doctor treated Ethel’s burns every day, and they 
were soon healed. 

One day, as Ethel entered the luxuriant sitting-room 
where Florence now usually reclined in a large arm- 
chair, looking like a white lily among the cushions, she 
noted a look of happy excitement on the child’s face. 

“How is my little girl to-day?” Ethel inquired, kissing 
the sweet lips that were raised to meet hers. 

“I feel quite better, thank you,” she politely answered. 
“How are you?” 

“Oh, I am feeling fine; see, my hands are almost as 
white and well as ever,” Ethel answered, holding out 
her hands for the child’s inspection. “My darling looks 
unusually happy to-day, what has happened. Has papa 
or Uncle Dick brought you another big doll?” 

“It is something better than a doll,” Florence re- 
sponded, with sparkling eyes. “Auntie Ethel, you will 
never guess what my Uncle Dick told me this morn- 
ing.” 

“Then I will not try to guess, so you will have to tell 
me. 

“He said that if it is a nice day to-morrow he is 
going to take me out for a little ride in his automo- 
bile; the doctor said he could. Isn’t that just awful 
nice,” she cried, joyfully. 


112 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“Indeed, that is lovely, and I am so glad. You have 
been a very brave little lady to stay in all this time 
and not fret and cry to go out.” 

“But I did want to go awfully bad. Some days when 
Uncle Dick carried this chair out on the veranda, and 
I saw the other children playing on the beach, I most 
cried. Auntie Ethel, it is awful hard to have to sit still 
all day,” Florence said with a sigh. 

“I know it must be, dear, but don’t get discouraged, 
you will soon be able to walk around,” Ethel answered 
cheerfully. 

“I have not told you all of my nice secret yet.” 

“You haven’t! Well, then, don’t keep me waiting 
another minute,” Ethel exclaimed playfully. 

“Uncle Dick says that you can go riding with us,” 
Florence answered gleefully. 

“I don’t think that I can go, dear, for to-morrow I 
shall be very busy.” 

“Oh! Auntie Ethel; then I don’t want to go either,” 
Florence answered dejectedly, while a tear rolled down 
her cheek. 

“Now, don’t cry, darling! Perhaps I can manage to 
spare an hour after all. What time did Uncle Dick 
say he would take you?” inquired Ethel. She was very 
sorry that her refusal had brought tears to the eyes 
that were sparkling with joy but a moment before, and 
she resolved to postpone a lesson if she possibly could 
accompany Florence. 

“He didn’t say,” Florence answered, smiling through 
her tears. “Here he comes now, I will ask him. Uncle 
Dick!” she called. 

“Hello!” he answered, stopping abruptly in the middle 
of a gay opera air he was whistling. 

“Come here, I want you,” she called, authoritatively. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


ii3 

“I am at your service,” he answered, laughing at her 
commanding air. 

“I am pleased to see you, Miss Wright,” he said, turn- 
ing to Ethel. “Florence has been looking for ” 

“Uncle Dick, you did not tell me what time we are 
going automobile riding to-morrow,” Florence inter- 
rupted. 

“Didn’t I? Then that is your fault, for you didn’t 
ask me,” he said, lightly pinching her pale cheek. 

“What time is we?” she inquired impatiently. “Auntie 
Ethel wants to know.” 

“I thought we would go at four o’clock, as it will not 
be so warm at that hour. Is that time convenient for 
you, Miss Wright?” 

“Yes, that will do very well. To-morrow will be a 
busy day for me, but I think that the young lady that 
takes her lesson at four will be willing to come after 
tea,” Ethel answered, feeling very happy over the 
thought of the pleasant treat in store for her. 

The next day the weather was clear and bright. At 
four o’clock the happy little party started out in Richard 
Graham’s large, red touring-car. It is hard to tell 
which of the three was the happiest. Florence, seated 
between Uncle Dick and Auntie Ethel, thought she was 
die happiest. She had always been a merry, active 
child, and was never know to sit still more than a minute 
at a time, but flitted in and out of the house all day, 
much to the annoyance of her nurse, who found it diffi- 
cult to keep her charge in sight, and so it had been a 
great trial to Florence to be shut in, and not be able to 
even walk about, ever since that never-to-be-forgotten 
Fourth of July, when in a spirit of mischief she tried to 
run away, but she bore her pain and confinement heroic- 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


114 

ally. Can you wonder, dear reader, that this child was 
happy as they rode swiftly and smoothly along, unfold- 
ing new scenes to the eyes that had been shut in one 
spot so many weeks? It was a very comfortable auto- 
mobile, and the chauffeur was very skillful, therefore 
there were no sudden jars to hurt the tender, sore flesh 
of the child. 

To Ethel the world seemed enchanted. She was a 
lover of Dame Nature, and as they rode through pic- 
turesque lanes, then beside the waters of the bay where 
the sea-bird winged his way, hovering low over the 
curling waves, or over a quaint rustic bridge, her eyes 
sparkled and her cheeks flushed, while her heart thrilled 
with happiness. To many people the city, with its hand- 
some buildings and marvelous skyscrapers, bridges, 
tunnels and unceasing activity, is a wonder and delight, 
but to Ethel the quiet and harmony of the country is 
an inspiration and delight. As they rode through a 
short stretch of woods her joy knew no bounds; all 
about them the birds were singing in the tree-tops, while 
bright-eyed squirrels leaped from bough to bough. And 
to Richard Graham this day was the happiest he had 
ever seen. Like Ethel, he was very fond of the scenery 
usually found in the country, but to-day his greatest 
delight is to watch the beautiful face of Ethel Wright, 
and no sound is sweeter in his ears than her musical 
voice, or her silvery laughter which rang out at some 
of Florence’s quaint remarks. 

The hour passed all to quickly, and it was with re- 
gret that they turned homeward. But this was only the 
beginning of happy days, for at the earnest pleading of 
both Richard Graham and Florence, Ethel changed the 
time of lessons of some of her scholars so as to have 
from four until five, and some days until six o’clock, 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


ii5 

free to spend automobiling. Florence dearly loved her 
mother, father and grandmother, but it was Ethel that 
she wanted to accompany her on her rides. If for 
some unavoidable reason Ethel could not go the child 
was inconsolable, and positively would not go with any 
one else. 

Thus three happy weeks sped all to swiftly, and then 
one day Ethel’s new-born happiness was suddenly 
crushed. 

It was one afternoon, coming in bright and rosy from 
a delightful ride, Ethel found a pupil waiting for her. 
Her hour was from five until six o’clock, but she had ar- 
rived early. She was a young married woman, who 
considered herself beautiful and thought that everyone 
else admired her. Although married to a good, noble 
man, she was not happy unless she received flattery and 
attention from every man she met. It had been gall and 
wormwood to her to see her poor music teacher out 
with Richard Graham every day, while all her winning 
smiles, and honeyed speeches seemed lost upon him. Ah, 
to-day she would have her revenge, for she had a choice 
piece of news to tell. 

“You look as if automobiling agrees with you, Miss 
Wright,” she said. In her heart she envied the health- 
ful glow on Ethel’s cheek, for without rouge her face 
was colorless. 

“Do I?” answered Ethel, smiling. “I love to be 
out in the country, and the woods look lovely. I had 
no idea that the surrounding country was so beautiful 
until Mr. Graham took me to see it.” 

“Then I don’t suppose you enjoy the thought of giv- 
ing up your delightful rides.” 

“Giving them up?” Ethel asked in surprise. “What 
do you mean?” 


ii6 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


“Can it be that you have not heard that Mr. Graham’s 
affianced has returned from Paris, where she went to 
buy her trousseau, and is expected here to-night? I 
saw her last year, and she is pretty and very wealthy. 
I don’t think she will like it if her intended husband 
takes other girls out riding,” the mischief-maker said, 
watching Ethel’s face for some sign of anguish, but 
Ethel read her false heart as easily as an open book, 
and calmly said : 

“If Mr. Graham is engaged to be married, of course 
I shall not go out with him again. It was for Florence 
Deane’s sake that I went. But I can say positively that 
I never heard of his engagement before.” 

“I can prove it to you. I bought an evening paper on 
my way here, and here is a paragraph about it,” she said, 
opening the paper and reading aloud : “ ‘Miss E. W. 

Robinson, the affianced of Mr. Richard F. Graham, has 
returned from Paris, and will arrive in Riverside to- 
night.’ ” 

If this information caused Ethel any sorrow, she con- 
cealed it remarkably well. Much to the secret anger 
and disappointment of her informer, she proceeded to 
instruct her in music, looking and speaking as calmly 
as ever. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


ii 7 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 

The full moon was rising majestically, lighting up 
the waters with its calm, white sheen, and tempted by 
the exceeding beauty of the night Ethel Wright strolled 
down to the beach. To her surprise and joy she found 
the beach deserted, for most of the summer boarders 
had gone back to their city homes, so she made her 
way undisturbed to an old boat which was turned bot- 
tom up on the beach. Sitting down and drawing her 
shawl closer about her shoulders, she gave herself up 
to her thoughts. 

Three days have passed since she heard of Richard 
Graham’s engagement, and there has been a struggle go- 
ing on in her heart ever since. It was a hard struggle, 
for she is trying to crush the love that fills her heart for 
one that is pledged to wed another. She had thought 
her heart dead and buried with her first love. She 
had thought that her esteem and admiration for Richard 
Graham was nothing but a friendship, but now the 
mask was rudely torn from her heart and she read its 
pitiful story. She saw now that she loved Richard 
Graham with a true, deep, unquenchable love. 

Her thoughts were very sad and bitter. 

“Why, oh, why, do I always have a taste of happi- 
ness only to have it snatched from me, and leave me sad 
and lonely?” she sobbed. “Oh, I am punished. Pun- 


n8 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


ished for daring to forget Wilbur and loving another, 
but I am so young, I am sure if Wilbur knew, he would 
not blame me or expect me to mourn for him all my 
life,” she meditated. 

Did she blame Richard Graham for not telling her 
that he was engaged to be married? No, she blamed 
no one but herself. She thought that he supposed she 
knew of it, and only took her driving and sent her 
flowers for Florence’s sake. 

She had not seen him since that day she had received 
this blow, which seemed to be crushing her life out. It 
was only three days, but to her it seemed ages since she 
looked upon his noble face and heard his beloved voice. 

He had called to take her out automobiling every 
afternoon, but she had sent her mother or Russell out 
with an excuse, and although he called once or twice 
bringing messages from Mrs. Deane and Florence, she 
steadfastly refused to see him. 

She had gone to see Florence, but had timed her calls 
when she knew that Richard was not likely to be home. 
She thought it strange that they did not mention Miss 
Robinson, but was unspeakably relieved that they did 
not. 

Did she stop to think that Richard Graham might 
think her conduct strange? No, for she thought that 
his time and mind would be so taken up with his affianced 
that he would not give her a thought, and so she re- 
solved to avoid him until she had gained mastery over 
her heart, and could speak to him without betraying her 
love. 

Richard Graham paced up and down the broad ver- 
anda. There was a troubled, grieved look on his face, 
and he seemed pondering deeply. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


1 19 

He had paced the veranda for some time in solitude, 
when suddenly his mother joined him. 

“Dick/’ she said with all a mother’s true love in her 
voice, “tell mother what is grieving you.” 

“How do you know that there is anything grieving 
me?” he asked, with a forced laugh, leading her to a 
comfortable rocker. 

“Ah, my son, you can’t hide anything from your 
mother’s eyes. Don’t you suppose I have noticed your 
preoccupied mind and troubled countenance these last 
two or three days? It has pained me to see my boy 
suffer, and I want to help you if I can. Dick, what is 
the trouble between you and Ethel Wright?” she asked, 
abruptly. 

“Then you have guessed my secret; you know that I 
love her?” he inquired, in surprise. 

“Yes, Dick, I know it, and it has pleased me, for 
Ethel is as dear to me as a daughter. She is a poor 
girl, but she is pure, graceful and beautiful; a girl of 
whom any man might be proud.” 

“Yes, mother, I know she is far too peerless for un- 
worthy me, but I love her wildly, madly; love her as I 
did not think it possible for man to love,” he cried 
vehemently, “but I cannot understand why she has 
avoided me these last three days. We parted very good 
friends, indeed she seemed overflowing with happiness, 
and I have not had a glimpse of her since, for every 
time I call I am told she is, out. Can you think of any- 
thing that I have done that might have offended her ?” 

“No, dear, I cannot, and I know that Ethel is not a 
girl that would get angry over nothing.” 

“I know that also. Oh, this suspense is awful,” Rich- 
ard said, sinking into a chair. 

“Now, Dick, don’t give up hope until she has refused 


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ETHEL WRIGHT 


you. Remember that ‘Faint heart never won fair lady.’ 
Perhaps she will come to see Florence to-morrow, and 
if you are not here, I will ask her why she avoids you,” 
Mrs. Graham said, rising, for the air was growing 
chilly. 

“Thank you, mother, for your kind consolation,” 
Richard said, kissing her. “Unburdening my heart has 
made me feel ever so much better. I think I will take 
a stroll up the beach before I turn in; perhaps the walk 
and air will make me sleep to-night, which is something 
that I did not do last night.” 

“Yes, this beautiful night and fresh air ought to drive 
away the blue demons, but it is too cool out here for my 
old bones, so I am going into the house.” 

Richard put his arm affectionately about his mother 
as he walked to the door with her; as she reached the 
threshold he released her and was turning away, when 
she put both arms around his neck and reverently said: 

“Put your trust in God, Dick, for He doeth all things 
well.” 

“I am not going to sit up very late to-night, for I am 
very sleepy, and I may be in bed when you come in. 
Good-night, my son; may the morrow bring you your 
heart’s desire,” she sweetly said, kissing him as tenderly 
and motherly as in the days when she tucked him in 
his crib at night. 

“Good-night and sweet dreams, precious mother. 
Thank God for a mother like you. I know there are 
many mothers that would oppose the union of their son 
to a poor girl, no matter how good and worthy she 
might be, and so I say again, that I thank God for a 
true Christian mother, for one that values purity and 
truth above worldly ambition and wealth,” Richard fer- 
vently said. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


121 


With another fond kiss, Mrs. Graham entered the 
hall, closing the door behind her, and Richard slowly 
walked on the beach, close to the edge of the water. 
He stood for some time watching the tiny waves that 
broke on the shore at his feet, drinking in the beauty of 
the night, and then slowly strolled along the beach. 

His talk with his mother had cheered him, and his 
thoughts were bright and hopeful as he walked with his 
hands buried into the pockets of the light overcoat that 
covered his evening dress suit. 

He had almost reached the overturned boat, before 
he discovered the figure seated upon it. He was about 
to turn back, thinking he would not intrude upon the 
solitude of the stranger, when a sudden movement of 
the form sitting back to him, caused him to stop and 
stare with throbbing heart. There was something very 
familiar in that motion, and drooping form. Could it be 
Ethel? Had his longed for opportunity come at last? 

Just then Ethel stood up and turned her face toward 
him. 

“Ethel!” he cried, a glad ring in his voice as he hast- 
ened to her side. 

With a frightened cry she staggered back. She was 
too startled to notice that he called her Ethel instead 
of Miss Wright. She had been so wrapt in her thoughts 
and distress that she had not heard his footsteps on the 
sand, and the sudden encounter with the object of her 
thoughts completely unnerved her. 


1 22 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


CHAPTER XX. 


Richard’s explanation and ethel’s welcome. 

“Please forgive me for startling you,” Richard said 
pleadingly as he gently took her hand and led her to 
the side of the boat, upon which she tremblingly sank. 

“I really did not mean to frighten you, but the sud- 
den joy of seeing you was so great that I never thought 
that my sudden appearance might startle you. You 
have not spoken one word to me. Miss Wright, are 
you angry? Please do not turn your head away, but 
speak to me,” he cried in distress. 

“I am not angry,” Ethel answered, striving hard to 
master her emotion and speak calmly. It was in vain 
that she tried to still the wild throbbing of her heart, 
for the eyes looking so wistfully at her and the plead- 
ing voice, made her forget everything but the man she 
loved, who was by her side. 

“Miss Wright, it is three days since I have seen you, 
but Oh, they have seemed like years. Why have you 
avoided me? Tell me what have I done to offend you?” 

“You have not offended me,” she answered, looking 
truthfully at him. 

“Then why have you refused to see me, and discon- 
tinued our pleasant drives so suddenly?” he anxiously 
inquired, sitting down beside her. 

“I think my mother told you,” she answered, trying 
to speak coldly. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


123 


“Yes, I know she did, but her excuse did not satisfy 
me. I felt as though there were other reasons.” 

“I thought you would easily guess why I would not 
go riding, and I thought you would not miss my com- 
pany when the one nearest and dearest to you was here 
to claim your time and thoughts,” Ethel answered bit- 
terly. 

“I fail to understand your meaning,” Richard said 
perplexedly. 

“Then I will explain more fully. Do you think it 
looks well for a young lady to go out automobiling with 
a young man when he is the betrothed of another, and 
that other is in town?” she asked, looking searchingly 
at him. 

“No, of course not. But what has that got to do 
with our case?” he answered as mystified as ever. 

“Everything,” she answered, drawing herself up 
proudly. “Mr. Graham, I am a poor girl, but I value 
my good name as much as any of your wealthy, aristo- 
cratic lady friends. If I had known that you were en- 
gaged to Miss Robinson, I surely would never have 
gone driving with you, and so set the gossips talking 
about me. Unfortunately I only heard of it three days 
ago.” 

Ethel looked as proud and stately as a queen as she 
stood up, with flashing eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“I engaged to Miss Robinson! Why, I am not even 
acquainted with any lady of that name,” he exclaimed 
in amazement. “Who told you that infamous lie?” 

For a moment a glad light shone in her eyes, but it 
speedily vanished and a reproachful look took its place. 
No, he was not free, for had she not seen the announce- 
ment in the paper? and worst of all, he whom she had 


124 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


considered so noble and truthful, was trying to deceive 
her! 

“How dare you try to deceive me? Perhaps you are 
not aware that the return of your affianced from Paris 
and her arrival here was published in the papers a few 
days ago,” she said scornfully. 

Suddenly the truth dawned upon Richard, and a bright 
smile spread over his face. 

“Ah! I have solved the problem at last. I repeat 
that I am not engaged, but a Richard F. Graham, stop- 
ping at the Riverside House, is engaged to a Miss 
Robinson. Have you never heard of two men bearing 
the same name but not being related to each other? 
Well, it is so in this case, only while his name is Richard 
Frank Graham, mine is Richard Elwood Graham. I 
have heard that he is engaged to a Miss Robinson, 
but I have never met the lady. Do you believe me 
now? Oh, how could you think me so base as to try 
to deceive you?” he cried, a look of pain in his eyes. 

For a monent Ethel was speechless. Her heart 
seemed to stand still, from the sudden shock of joy. She 
tried to look up and tell him how sorry she was for 
misjudging him, but she could not, so with downcast 
eyes and quivering lips she murmured : 

“Forgive me?” 

“There is nothing to forgive, my darling,” he cried. 
“Ethel, my love, my angel, will you be my wife? I love 
you, dear, with a love that even death cannot sever, for 
I will love you even in eternity. Why are you so silent? 
Oh, do not send me from you, for without your love I 
cannot live,” he cried, passionately. “I know I am not 
worthy of one so fair and pure as you, but I will try 
to make myself worthy and with your sweet influence 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


125 

I will succeed. Darling, is there any room in your 
heart for me?” 

Softly her answer came, a mere whisper, but he 
heard it, and clasping her in his arms their lips met in 
a kiss that sealed their betrothal. 

It was almost ten o’clock when the lovers reached 
Ethel’s home. To Richard’s delight Mr. and Mrs. 
Wright had not retired. 

In a few manly words he told them of his love for 
their daughter. To his joy they raised no objections, 
but consented to receive him as a son-in-law. 

But Mrs. Wright’s pillow was wet with tears that 
night. She rejoiced at her daughter’s happiness and 
choice, but the future looked dark and cheerless with- 
out Ethel. How could she bear her burden without the 
bright presence of the one who had ever been her com- 
forter ? 

“Sweetheart,” Richard said, when they had been left 
alone in the parlor for a few minutes, “here is some- 
thing I have been carrying in my pocket for the last 
two weeks.” Taking a velvet case out of his pocket 
he touched the spring, disclosing a handsome solitare 
diamond ring. “Oh, how I longed to tell you of my 
love, and place this upon your finger; but I dared not, 
for fear that you did not love me.” 

Placing the ring upon her finger he whispered : “My 
love, my betrothed bride, mine through life and in eter- 
nity.” 

“Yours alone,” she answered softly, raising her lovelit 
eyes. 

Early the next morning Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Deane 
called to welcome and congratulate Ethel. 

Both visitors’ hearts beat high with joy as their eyes 


126 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


rested upon the vision of loveliness that came shyly for- 
ward to meet them. It is true that her dress was made 
of cheap material and fashioned very plain, but it was 
decidedly becoming. She had gathered a few chrysan- 
themums, and one rested on her wavy hair, while the 
others adorned her waist. Her eyes shone with a bril- 
liant luster, that told of a happy heart. 

“My dear daughter,” Mrs. Graham said, taking her 
into her arms and fondly kissing her. “I am so glad that 
you are coming to us. I have always loved you as a 
daughter, but now my happiness is complete, to think 
that you are really going to be my daughter.” 

“I don’t think it is necessary to tell Ethel how glad 
I am,” Mrs. Deane exclaimed, “for you surely must 
know, dear, that I love you,” she said, kissing Ethel’s 
blushing face. “Mr. Deane will be delighted also, when 
he hears of it, and as for Florence, she is just wild with 
joy; you know she always claimed you for her aunt.” 

Her kind welcome into the wealthy aristocratic family 
of her betrothed’s mother and sister filled her eyes with 
happy tears, and her voice trembled as she replied : 

“I do not know how to thank you for your kind words 
and reception. You know that I love you, and I will 
try to prove worthy of your love, by being a good wife 
to Richard.” 

“I know that you will make him a good, true wife, 
dear,” Mrs. Graham said, “and my son is fortunate to 
have won the love of a peerless girl like you.” 

Ah! the difference between Wilbur Gray’s mother 
and Richard Graham’s mother; both wealthy and mov- 
ing in the best society, but one a worldly, haughty 
woman ; and the other a true motherly Christian woman, 
one who considered the happiness of her children of far 
more value than gold or worldly position. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


127 


CHAPTER XXL 


SAVED AT LAST. 

Captain Henry Wright sat before a large bright fire 
which burned on the hearth, looking the picture of lone- 
liness and despair. It was the day before Thanks- 
giving. “What have I to be thankful for?” he won- 
dered. It is true he had a luxurious home, and a large 
fortune, for he had invested his money in a gold mine 
which for a number of years seemed valueless, but at 
last a new vein of ore had been struck, and to his 
surprise he found himself a millionaire, but that did not 
bring him any happiness. 

“Where, oh, where, is my boy?” he groaned aloud. 
“My Harold, who in my foolish pride I drove away, by 
my bitter words about his wife? I wonder if he has any 
children? Perhaps he has, and while I am surrounded 
with luxury and wealth, which I cannot use in my old 
age, they, my children and grandchildren, may be in 
want. I will not leave a stone unturned to find them; 
to-morrow I will employ some detectives to search for 
them. I did wrong, but Alice, my sister, your sin is 
greater than mine,” and the lonely, remorseful man 
bowed his gray head, and the tears rolled down his 
cheeks. 

Yes, Captain Wright was miserable and lonely indeed. 
His sister Alice had rewarded his kindness by forging 
his name to a large check and eloping with a smooth- 


128 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


spoken, notorious adventurer, but retribution speedily 
came. They had only been in San Francisco (where 
they had fled to escape detection) two days when the 
hotel in which they were guests was wrecked by the 
earthquake which laid San Francisco in ruins. When 
rescuers found them, Alice was still breathing, but her 
husband and two children were dead. She only lived 
a few hours, but before she died she confessed the wrong 
she had done her brother and his son, and the kind nurse 
who listened to her story wrote it down and sent it 
to Captain Wright. 

Captain Wright still sat, living over the past, when 
a servant opened the door and announced that a lady 
wished to see him. 

“I lady to see me?” Captain Wright repeated in sur- 
prise. “Who is she?” 

“She did not give me her card, and I think she is a 
stranger. She said to tell you that she had come on 
urgent business.” 

“Some beggar or book agent, I suppose,” he mut- 
tered. “Show her in here.” 

A few seconds later the door opened, and a young 
lady walked in with the stately grace of a queen. Her 
veil was thrown back, disclosing a face of rare loveli- 
ness. 

Captain Wright arose to greet her, gazing at her as 
if fascinated. There was something strangely familiar 
about her. Still, who could she be? he wondered in 
perplexity. 

She stood looking at him beseechingly a moment, and 
then said, in a voice soft and sweet: 

“I see you do not know me. I am Ethel Wright, your 
granddaughter.” 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


129 

For a moment the old man gazed at her speechless 
with emotion, and then he cried : 

“You my granddaughter ? My Harold’s daughter] 
Thank God! Thank God! I have found you at last/ 
and he sank back into his chair, sobbing for joy. 

Going to his side, and gently kissing him on his brow 
she spoke loving words to him, and soon he controlled 
his emotion. 

And then she told him why she had come to him. Her 
father had met with an accident, and there was little 
hope for saving his life. He had x been caught in a 
machine that he was repairing, and both legs were 
crushed below the knees. An operation had been per- 
formed, and both legs amputated just below the knees, 
but he was so weak they feared he would not recover : 
he realized his hopeless condition and longed to see his 
father before he died. 

So Ethel decided to go to her grandfather and plead 
with him to forgive her father, and grant his dying re- 
quest. 

Then Captain Wright told her how his sister had de- 
ceived him, and how he repented for the cruel way in 
which he had treated his children. 

“I have found my son, only to lose him again,” he 
groaned. “Oh, my punishment is greater than I can 
bear, but I thank God that I have still a daughter and 
two grandchildren to cheer my old age.” 

A special train was ordered at once, and in a short 
time Captain Wright and his granddaughter were on 
their way to Riverside. 

The afternoon was waning, night was coming on, as 
Mr. Wright opened his eyes and looked about. At first 
he thought he was alone, but suddenly his eyes rested 


130 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


upon a form kneeling at his bedside. A glance told him 
that it was his wife, and that she was praying for him. 
The sight thrilled him as he had never been thrilled be- 
fore, and great beads of perspiration started on his 
forehead as the truth forced itself on his mind that ere 
long he would stand in the presence of Him to whom 
his wife was praying. Yes, he realized that he was go- 
ing to die, and he was afraid. All his sinful past arose 
before him, as he looked at his saintly wife, who had 
borne his cruelty and abuse so patiently. 

Just then Mrs. Wright arose, but started when she 
encountered the wistful, frightened look of her husband 

“Did you have a nice nap, Harold,” she asked as she 
smoothed his pillow. 

“Marie, were you praying for me?” he inquired, ignor- 
ing her question. “Marie, I know I am dying, but I 
am so afraid,” he cried, clasping her hands in terror. 

“Harold, there is One who will help you, One who 
will make death a joy instead of a terror; pray to Him, 
my dear husband; pray to Jesus, who died for your 
sins,” Mrs. Wright said, choking back the tears that 
almost overflowed. 

“It is too late, too late,” the stricken man groaned. 

“It is not too late, Harold, for Jesus has said, ‘Him 
that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’ And that 
means you, Harold, just as much as it does anyone else.” 
Mrs. Wright picked up her Bible, which lay on a table 
beside her. 

“Do you really mean that He will forgive me now, 
after having squandered my life in wickedness?” Mr. 
Wright inquired, incredibly. 

“Yes, my husband, that is just what He is anxious 
to do, if you will give Him your heart. Listen to His 
precious promises,” and Mrs. Wright read verse after 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


131 

verse of the wonderful love of the Saviour, who is al- 
ways ready to forgive His sinful children. 

“Ah, Marie, if only I could feel sure that He would 
forgive me, after denying Him all these years. You 
know Him so well, tell me what I must do to be 
saved.” 

“If you are truly sorry for all your sins, and love 
and believe Him, it is all He asks. Won’t you pray to 
Him now, Harold, and ask Him to forgive you?” 

“I cannot, I don’t know how,” he groaned. 

“Now is the accepted time, my husband. Try,” she 
gently said, falling on her knees, and then the man who 
had not prayed since he was a little child, in a broken 
way, humbly asked for pardon. 

It was late that night when Captain Wright and Ethel 
arrived. We will not try to tell of the meeting of father 
and son, but it was a very touching one. Mrs. Wright’s 
heart was filled with love for her father-in-law, when 
he humbly and beseechingly begged her forgiveness. 

Everything that money could do was done to prolong 
Mr. Wright’s life, but it was all in vain. Years of 
dissipation had ruined his constitution, and slowly but 
surely his life was ending. 

Every day Mrs. Wright and Ethel read the Bible to 
him, and showed him the way to Jesus, and he was saved 
at last — saved at the eleventh hour. 

At last the end came. All day he lay in a stupor, 
but just as twilight settled over the town he opened his 
eyes. Calling all his dear ones to his bedside, he feebly 
said : 

“Marie, my dear wife, do not grieve for me when I 
am gone. Jesus knows best. Perhaps if He let me 
live, my appetite for strong drink would lead me astray 


132 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


again, so in His wonderful wisdom and mercy He is 
going to take me while I am within His fold.” 

And then calling Ethel and Richard beside him he said : 

“My children, may you never stray from the straight 
and narrow way. It is my earnest desire that you will be 
married in June, as you had planned; do not postpone it 
because of my death. And Russell, my son, never let 
strong drink pass your lips; be firm in the Lord. 
Father, come closer — it grows dark. I have nothing to 
leave my wife and children, but you have promised to 
provide for them, and so I die happy, I know you will 
all forgive me, even — as — Jesus — has — forgiven — me.” 

He sank back into the pillows, and a bright smile 
spread over his face; then the silence was broken by 
his voice saying softly, “Nearer, my God to Thee.” 
Yes, nearer indeed, for his spirit had fled. 

Mrs. Wright was borne fainting from the room, for 
through all her years of suffering she had not ceased 
to love her husband. 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 


133 


CHAPTER XXII. 


CONCLUSION. 

The wedding-day came at last, and never was day 
fairer or sky brighter than that June day. 

Mrs. Wright and her children were still living in 
Riverside, for it was Ethel’s desire to be married in the 
church in which she had been an earnest worker, but 
after the wedding Mrs. Wright and Russell were going 
to live with Captain Wright. 

It was to be a very quiet wedding, only the near rela- 
tives and a few intimate friends having been invited. 

At last the hour came, and the happy bridal party 
were driven to the church. As Ethel’s eyes rested upon 
the interior of the church they were filled with joy and 
gratitude. Her friends and scholars had secretly dec- 
orated it, and the air was laden with the odor of a 
thousand roses. Controlling her emotion with an effort, 
the bridal party moved to the altar. 

Very lovely the bride looked in her dress of fine lace, 
exquisite veil and orange blossoms. Captain Wright 
gave the bride away, Violet Borden (now Mrs. Marsh) 
was matron of honor, Russell best man and Florence 
Deane flower-girl. 

Very solemn were the vows breathed there on that 
memorable day, and never had a lovelier pair stood be- 
fore that marriage altar. 

After the wedding breakfast the happy couple, amid 


134 


ETHEL WRIGHT 


showers of rice and confetti, boarded the train and were 
soon on their way to New York. 

The next day they started for Europe. Yes, Ethel’s 
brightest dreams were to be fulfilled, and her face was 
radiant with happiness and joyful anticipation of the 
new world to which she was going. 


The remaining days of Captain Wright’s life were 
made bright and happy by his children. No father could 
have greater love for a daughter than he had for Marie, 
his son’s widow and the woman he had refused to recog- 
nize in former years. The sad, careworn look soon left 
her face, and a bright, happy one took its place. Just 
in the prime of her life, she was a fair mistress of her 
new home. Years of suffering had ennobled her, and 
no needy person sought her aid in vain. 

Russell is a son to be proud of, and is now at col- 
lege. He is a diligent student, at the head of his class, 
and a general favorite. 

Ethel has a handsome home adjoining her grand- 
father’s estate. Knowing of the love between mother 
and daughter, Richard would not separate them, and 
so he built a stately mansion next to Captain Wright’s. 
It was not far from the city, and he could go back and 
forth when business called him. 

Mrs. Gray still lives alone, ever mourning for her 
son, who paid the price of her selfish pride with his life. 
On all sides she hears praises of the beautiful Mrs. 
Richard Elwood Graham, whose debut into society 
created quite a sensation. 

One day they met at a reception in New York. After 
the hostess had introduced them, she left them while 
she went to greet some new arrivals. Ethel’s heart was 


ONLY A MUSIC TEACHER 135 

filled with pity for the bent, broken-down woman at her 
side, and she gently said : 

“Mrs. Gray, I do not feel as if we were strangers. 
One whose memory is still dear to me often spoke of 
you.” 

The kind words were like coals of fire to Mrs. Gray, 
and breaking down she confessed her cruelty. It was 
well that they were in a secluded corner, for Ethel’s 
tears. flowed when she heard that Wilbur died for love 
of her, but she freely forgave Mrs. Gray. 

Can we wonder that, as she sits in her stately home 
in Ferris, lonely and unloved, that she often thinks of 
what might have been, if she had not scorned Wilbur’s 
betrothed because she was “only a music teacher.” 



























